


Paid in Full

by TCRegan



Series: No Exchanges or Refunds [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, M/M, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 54,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of a conspiracy that threatened to take down mafia boss Garrett Hawke, he finds himself having to deal with the emotional upheavals in his life.</p>
<p>Sometimes, a new couch just doesn't cut it.</p>
<p>modern!Thedas AU with real world influences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theangrywarlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangrywarlock/gifts).



> Hello! Welcome back. ^_^ I decided to post a little early here, still working out the kinks in later chapters. I hope you all enjoy this as much as the last while I muddle through the ending, and start another multi-chaptered AU for your viewing pleasure.

"Tuesday."

Anders looked up as the boy sat across from him. Dark-skinned and wide-eyed, his black hair feathered over his forehead. He looked sad, even when he smiled. He picked at the lunch tray, making a face at the formless grey glop that was supposed to be mashed potatoes, and speared a green bean that looked as if it had seen better days.

"What's wrong with Tuesdays?" Anders asked, trying to cheer Alain up. He lifted his burger – a dried out piece of meat between two cold pieces of bun. "I believe that the cows particularly enjoy it. They get to be put out of their misery."

Alain chuckled, but the laughter was short-lived. He was young when he'd been brought to the Gallows, only seventeen. Before that, he'd been detained in Starkhaven, but the building underwent construction and most of the mages were rehoused. Now in his early twenties, Alain was likely to spend the rest of his days here. Even though he was up for parole, he'd used magic to murder someone, and no judge would excuse that. Never mind the fact that Alain killed his father trying to protect his mother. The man forced himself on the woman, beating her not for the first time, but the last. Alain, his hands already bloody from the broken bottle his father hit him with, used the power from that blood to make his father's heart stop beating.

Mages generally never talked about blood magic. It was extremely taboo, more than just using regular magic. It was said that you had to go to a very dark place to access that kind of power. He'd spoken with Karl about it, young and naïve that he was and became angry when Karl defended the choices of blood mages.

_"They're evil! They have to cut themselves in order to use it and… and, who would pervert magic in that way?"_

_"Blood magic isn't inherently evil," Karl said calmly. "When you have no other options, blood magic is a useful tool. Or when your mana dries up, you can use it to fuel more magic if you need to."_

_"I would NEVER use blood magic."_

_"Let's hope you're never in a situation where you have to make that choice, love."_

Anders was thrown into a cell to share with Alain, got to know him, and sympathized with him when Alain told his tale. And then he mentioned he used blood magic. That old bias came back strong, but before Anders opened his mouth, he looked at Alain, really looked. The boy was sad, tired, likely thinking this was the end of his life. And he hadn't done anything truly malicious, had he? There was a precedence set for using magic in self-defense that followed the law of using anything at your disposal if you were in danger. With a fair and proper trial, using magic to defend yourself was no more illegal than using a gun or a knife. But since when did mages get fair and proper trials? And blood magic? There was bias against that even among other mages.

Anders couldn't be angry with Alain. He couldn't be disgusted by him. He was just a kid trying to save his mother. Anders understood. He also seemed to be Alain's only friend aside from a woman called Grace, who fully lacked the virtue of her namesake. She was loud and obnoxious and always starting fights with other inmates and templars. Not that she could really hurt anyone, considering their restrictions.

Alain frowned. "Pulling at it won't make it go away."

Unconsciously Anders had been tugging at the collar around his neck. A simple, one inch black scrap of fabric. It was fastened by magic which was ironic considering its purpose was to completely suppress it. The second it was wrapped around Anders' neck as he was processed, he felt as if a limb had been severed. He never realized what it meant to go without magic. Not that he used it regularly, but it was always there, always in reach. Now he couldn't feel it at all, and it hurt. Alain told him that some mages went insane with it on, that they couldn't handle losing their magic in such a way.

Anders never realized what Gallows mages went through, never understood the horrors of it all. Karl had always spoken out about it, though anonymously. Anders read the articles he submitted to pro-mage and pro-magic blogs and knew Karl kept up with the community that fought for mage rights. But he was always on the fringe of things, never wanting to get too involved out of the same fear that figuratively collared most mages into not speaking out.

If Anders got out of the Gallows, he intended to raise hell. There was nothing in the papers, barely anything anywhere about these collars, about the men and women who would rather take their own lives than deal with not having their magic. The ones who went slowly insane. And that was to say nothing for the punishments within the Gallows walls. Beatings, public humiliation in the square, the general living conditions which made his crappy Lowtown apartment look like the Golden City itself. 

Not to mention the templars. 

Templars everywhere, watching you, making sure you weren't up to anything. Anders knew that regular prisons must've had guards to watch over the inmates to keep them from trying to escape, to keep them in line. But most of the mages in the Gallows were already cowed. Told their entire lives that they were different and that was a sin, that the Maker hated them for their magic. That if they used that magic they would be locked up. Shunned and ostracized by people, forced to admit their mage status if they wanted to work in any job more prestigious than fast food or retail. And once incarcerated they were subjected to templars who, in Anders' summation, were given carte-blanche to do whatever it was they needed to in order to keep the mages in line.

"Visiting day at least," Alain said, though it was more for Anders' sake than his own. Alain never got visitors.

Anders had two so far, his public defender and Justice. He hoped he would see his brother again today. Justice had spoken to him with a carefully guarded detachment, not asking Anders anything that would compromise the upcoming trial. He spoke of canceling the lease on Anders' apartment, packing up what was salvageable of Anders' furniture, his belongings, and storing them in his basement. And of course, taking Ser Pounce-a-lot to the vet to make sure he was okay, and giving him a place to live in Justice's house. Which was a big deal, Anders thought, since Justice wasn't particularly fond of cats.

And that was the worst of it. There were so many things he wanted to say to Justice, so many things he needed to apologize for. Justice was right. It was irritating, but he was right. They didn't speak about it, though. They talked about Joy, Justice's girlfriend, a possible engagement, the restructuring of Justice's department, a potential promotion for him, and the weather. Autumn was in full swing now, and Anders missed the leaves turning colors, locked up as he was. It wasn't the same to walk around the Gallows courtyard and look at the lonely tree there. There was little in the way of grass, most of the prison carved from stone on an island in the middle of the bay. The first thing he'd do when he got out would be to lie in Justice's backyard to feel the grass under his feet and fingertips.

"Visiting hours," one of the templars called.

Anders abandoned his sad meal and smiled at Alain, squeezing his shoulder. "I'll see you at lights out."

Alain returned the smile. "Good luck. Say hello to your brother for me!"

Anders wasn't sure what Justice would have to say about that, but he knew it made Alain happy to try to cheer him up. Their relationship was funny that way. He lined up with the others for the pat down before they were allowed to enter the visiting room. A formality, as Anders was fairly sure no mage would try to sneak a butter knife in order to shank their family members. He smiled a little, shaking his head. Maker, he was already using prison lingo in his head.

He approached his usual table, frowning at the familiar back of someone he'd not seen in a while. The man turned around, and Anders narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"


	2. Chapter 2

Varric Tethras, Antivan suit and all, his hair drawn back into a slick ponytail, turned, smirking at the greeting. Anders did not return it, nor did he sit. Seeing that he wasn't going to be able to sweet talk his way into Anders' good graces, Varric immediately dropped the businessman smile. It was a tight-lipped and grim expression that graced his face before he spoke.

"Hey, Blondie. I know I'm probably one of the last people you want to see."

"No shit."

Anders was seething. How dare any of them come to see him? The only person he'd remotely welcome from their group was Bethany. She'd sent him letters and he'd written back, but he knew she wouldn't come. She'd moved to Starkhaven shortly after Anders' arrest to be with Sebastian, who decided to leave Kirkwall lest he have to answer some potentially embarrassing questions about his involvement in the Red Iron Takedown. Which was of course what the papers were dubbing it. 

"Can we talk?" Varric asked, gesturing at the small table and chairs.

Anders considered his options. He could tell Varric no and head back to his cell with Alain, or he could sit and hear him out. The biggest issue he had was that he did actually like Varric. From the first time he met him, he realized Varric had a quality about him that was rare. He put people at ease and didn't condescend to them. It was likely what made him a very good conman.

"Fine," Anders said tersely. "But if you bring up his name, the meeting is over."

Bethany tried to discuss her brother with him, writing long paragraphs about how Hawke still loved him, missed him, was doing everything he could to help Anders get out of the Gallows. Anders didn't reply to those portions of the letters, congratulating her on the move, asking about her relationship with Sebastian, about if she had plans for school. He wanted to ask about her magic, but it wasn't wise to put that in a letter, since the templars were likely to read his correspondence.

"Fair enough," Varric agreed, and waited until Anders sat before sitting across from him. "You know, orange really isn't your color."

Anders snorted and looked away, tapping a finger restlessly on the tabletop. Underneath, his knee was jiggling. "Why are you here, Varric?"

"Your useless lawyer hasn't called or sent a letter in two weeks, am I right?"

"Did you have something to do with that?" It was true. The man had all but given up on Anders even before that though, and Anders had no idea when his trial was going to be. He'd been in the Gallows for over a month now and Justice was doing his best to inquire about a trial date.

"No," Varric said honestly. "He's just useless. And bogged down with all the other cases he has, I'm sure. These public defenders, they have dozens of inmates to look after, and in his eyes I'm sure he believes you're just another mage who deserves what he got."

Anders frowned. It was likely true. "Doesn't answer my question."

Varric cleared his throat and shifted, leaning forward a bit. "You're going to be represented by Haw- _our_ lawyer," he amended quickly. "The same one who'll be representing Carver."

"No." He didn't want their help. He didn't want to be indebted to them. He wanted the same treatment the other mages received, due process, and if he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life in the Gallows well, at least he had Alain. _See, Karl?_ he thought bitterly, _I'm finally making friends on my own._

Varric winced. "Unfortunately it's a little too late for that. It's already in the works. They have Carver's blood on your hands at the scene of the crime."

"Not my problem."

Varric held up a hand. "Listen, Anders," he said gently, "if you want to think of this as us helping Carver, and you just happened to be helped along the way, fine. But your cases are linked, and the story you told the cops, while we appreciate it, doesn't hold water." He hesitated. "About that, by the way…"

Anders scowled. "I'm not a rat."

Not that he had a lot of information to give, even if he was going to give it. He might have been able to verify that he'd seen Fenris take Brekker from his car, that he knew Hawke and the others were at the building on that night, and speculated about what they got up to in their spare time. He could definitely be an eyewitness to Meeran's murder. But he couldn't. He couldn't bring down an entire family who'd treated him so well, like one of their own. He couldn't do that to Bethany and Isabela, who were extremely fond of him, thought of him like a brother. He definitely couldn't do that to Merrill, who was just another mage trying to make the best of her lot in life. And Hawke?

He'd thrown out the man's letters without reading them. He didn't want to think about him, about his feelings for Hawke or Hawke's for him. In his mind, there was no chance of reconciliation, not after everything that happened. But… he didn't think he hated him. And that was infuriating. Over a month in prison and it had given him a lot of time to think, a lot of time to organize and compartmentalize his thoughts. Hawke hadn't pulled the trigger of the gun that killed Karl, but he may as well have. But Hawke didn't shy away from that; he didn't blame anyone but himself. It wasn't a comfort, but he wasn't sure what to call it. He'd seen Hawke take so little responsibility for everything, saw his arrogance, his childishness and immaturity. But when Anders asked him, Hawke didn't lie.

Anders wished he had.

"I know the templars are leaning on you to give him up-"

"I won't," Anders said, a finality to his tone. "So shut up about it."

Varric acquiesced, hands in the air. "All right. I believe you. The fact remains is that the story has holes. So a private meeting with our lawyer and he'll talk circles around the judge and get you out of here on a minor charge."

Anders scowled. "What about Carver?" It was testament to the fact that he still did care about the Hawke family that he was truly concerned for the kid. But then, he supposed, you didn't bring someone back from the brink of death without feeling at least a little bit of concern for their well-being.

"Carver's going to likely have to do some time."

"What? Why?"

Varric shrugged. "Win some, you lose some. Someone's got to take the fall for what happened, and I've spun a pretty good tale to the lawyer who's in agreement with me."

"Someone has to take the fall." It was such a fatalistic viewpoint. But then, wasn't that what he was doing right now? He hadn't killed those men, hadn't even wanted to be there in the first place. He was dragged against his will, and now he was in prison for saving a life. All because he wouldn't play Meredith's little game and give up Hawke. "Why would Carver do that for me?"

"I know! You saved his life. Why the hell would he want to help you out? Some people can't just be happy they're alive." Varric's tone was light, but the sarcasm cut like a blade.

Anders pursed his lips. "I don't like this."

"You don't have to. All we're asking is for one more favor, and that's to follow the story. You and Ha- you-know-who," he said quickly, "were an item. Meeran wanted revenge on him. Everyone knew you were together, so Meeran nabs you. Loverboy finds out, he gets pissed. His brother charges in like a hero, taking some Flint Company men and others in with him. Meeran stabs him in the chest, Carver shoots him in the head. You save Carver's life. Honestly all you need to say is, 'I saw my boyfriend's brother lying close to death and I saved his life.' Feel free to spice it up if you want, add some drama. But that's it. And chances are they'll let you off on that."

Anders wasn't so confident, of course. But the story was better than the one he'd come up with. And, if he was perfectly honest with himself, making up convenient half-truths was what these people were good at. He sighed, hands clasped now on the tabletop. He leaned down, forehead pressed against his thumbs and thought. Justice wouldn't be pleased. He would be actually quite livid that Anders was, yet again, involving himself with these people. But if it meant his freedom? And if he did get out, he would make damn sure everyone knew what the Gallows was.

"When can I see the lawyer to make it official?"

Varric smiled. "Next week. And then we'll have a trial date not too long after. I promise."

Anders nodded and stood. Varric offered his hand, and Anders shook it, templars watching to make sure the contact didn't last for more than a few seconds.

"By the way," Varric said, "he wanted me to tell you-"

"No," Anders said. "Whatever it is, you tell him I said no. I mean it."

Varric looked at him a moment, then nodded. "Be seeing you around, Blondie."

Anders watched him leave, and then, feeling quite exhausted, headed back to his cell.


	3. Chapter 3

Sweat poured down his face and he ignored it, landing a punch, then another. The carefully guarded anger he'd felt over the last few weeks came to a head that afternoon when he'd seen his mother off for an Orlesian vacation. She was angry with him over Carver's arrest, blamed him for Bethany's running off to Starkhaven. But Hawke paid his brother's bail, and reminded his mother that Starkhaven was just a few hours' drive to the north. The final decision to send her off was when she brought up Malcolm.

_"Your father never would've allowed this to happen!"_

Fenris scowled, shaking out his hand as Hawke delivered a particularly vicious punch to the training pads he held up. They'd been at it for over an hour now, and Hawke's muscles were screaming in protest. There was only so much he could put his enforcer through as well. Not that Fenris had anything better to do at the moment – they were all laying low until they got word from Varric and the lawyer. As far as he knew, Sebastian had been keeping the reporters away from himself and Bethany, their faces showing up only once or twice in the papers and the big story being about their 'affair' rather than any involvement with the Red Iron Takedown. It was preferable, and Bethany assured Hawke she was fine, studying to become a teacher.

_Like Anders' dead lover._

Fenris ducked the last punch, Hawke stumbling forward. He whirled on Fenris and punched again and again, not giving him time to let up. The lyrium in Fenris's skin flared and in a second Hawke was on the ground on his back, breathing heavily. He looked up, blinking against the harsh lights over the boxing ring. Fenris's silhouette came into view and Hawke winced.

"Sorry," he muttered. It was a rare apology, but warranted. And he was lucky that Fenris was a friend. He took the proffered hand, curling the boxing glove around it and allowed Fenris to haul him to his feet. "Just…"

Fenris grunted, saying nothing, but likely understanding. Hawke removed the gloves and tossed them aside, grabbing up the towel he'd slung over the ropes and wiped his face. The door of the gym opened and they both looked over. Varric walked in, raising a hand. Hawke sighed.

"Well?" he asked.

"And a howdy-do to you too."

Hawke scowled. He wasn't in the mood for this, and Varric seemed almost cheerful. He couldn't handle cheerful. It was the reason he'd all but blocked himself off from communication and sent missives through Fenris. At least he knew when to talk and when to be quiet. Even Carver, who had more reason than most of them to be in a foul mood and be annoyed with Hawke, avoided his brother, awaiting his fate.

"So I talked to Blondie."

Hawke looked at Fenris. "Hit the showers."

Fenris moved from between the ropes, gathering the equipment to stack up and then disappeared into the locker room. Hawke grabbed his water bottle, took a long swig and then poured a bit over his head before turning back to Varric. He toweled off and started to throw things into his gym bag.

"He agreed to the plan. Soon as the lawyer meets with him we'll put the whole thing into motion. I can't see a trial being postponed longer than a couple of weeks. He'll be out before Christmas."

"Yeah and then what?" Hawke muttered, climbing down out of the ring.

"Not sure what you mean, Hawke. Carver'll do maybe three months of his sentence, if that. He doesn't have a record, he's young, he's educated and rich. If he proves he's a good kid, they'll let him out on parole on good behavior. No one cares that Meeran's dead, Hawke. More scum off the streets? Judge'll give him a medal sooner than make Carver an example. Community service might be a bitch."

"Well if he hadn't gotten himself stabbed in the first place," Hawke said.

"You are a harsh taskmaster, messere."

Hawke shrugged. He frowned, not meeting Varric's eyes. "What… did he say?" he asked. He'd told Varric to apologize to Anders for him, to tell him… well, to tell him a lot of things. He was sure Anders was receiving his letters, but hadn't gotten anything back from him.

_"I don't want to hear from you again. Ever."_

It seemed Anders had meant what he said, but Hawke couldn't give up. He didn't know how to. No one had ever broken up with him, or if they'd had, it didn't hurt. Just another gold digger looking to make a name for herself or to earn a few shiny trinkets on Hawke's arm. Isabela had bemoaned the loss of him in bed, but he knew she was actually pleased he'd found someone. Someone so… good. In fact, most of his family had seemed happy for him with Anders. And himself? He couldn't remember a time he was more content and satisfied with his love life. Anders did something to him, made him happy. But it went beyond that.

If Hawke was a romantic, he'd have spouted some bullshit about soul mates. But it wasn't that. Anders was something in his life that was good and uncorrupt. Someone outside the business who had no ulterior motives, no agendas. He was like Varric in a way, but even Varric expected certain things of him. Anders rejected almost all things material and never pressed him for information, never demanded his time or attention. In fact, it was Hawke who'd sought him out more often than not, craving Anders like an addiction.

"He wouldn't talk to me about you," Varric said carefully. "It took everything I had to get him to listen to me and agree about the lawyer."

"Bloody stubborn bastard," Hawke sighed. "I just want him safe. And out of there."

"I know. But he's safe even in there, right?"

Hawke frowned. He had several dozen people in the city he'd helped out, currying favor with all the right ones. Viscount Dumar – he'd saved the man's son. Aveline and getting justice for her husband. And a templar called Thrask whose daughter was a mage who'd fallen in with a gang of smugglers. Hawke happened to be in the right place at the right time, but that didn't mean that Olivia wasn't grateful to him for saving her life. And when the templars descended upon her for using magic, Hawke testified for her to keep her out of the Gallows. Her father was grateful. He was also a Gallows templar, and someone Hawke called the second he heard that Anders had been booked on an illegal use of magic charge.

Thrask of course agreed immediately to help him. So he was keeping an eye on Anders, making sure he was treated well, or as well as any Gallows mage could be treated. Hawke had to trust him. It was either that or put one of his own in there, and as his only options were Bethany and Merrill, he had to depend on Thrask. If Carver had been a mage, Hawke simply wouldn't have paid his bail. But he wasn't, and Hawke wasn't about to let his brother rot in some shithole prison in Lowtown while they waited for trial. The prosecutor tried to argue a flight risk, but their lawyer was as slick as Varric and it was overruled.

"As safe as he could be, I suppose. How'd he look?" he asked tentatively.

"Tired," Varric said, "but otherwise okay."

"He's always tired." Hawke huffed. "All right."

Varric sighed. "If you want my advice-"

"I don't."

"If you want my advice," Varric said again, clearly not caring if Hawke did or not, "you should wait until he gets out and then try to talk to him. Like a normal person. No gifts, just ask him for coffee and talk. And let him pay for his own, for Andraste's sake."

Hawke frowned. "Fine."

"I know what I'm talking about, Hawke."

"I said fine, Varric."

Varric pursed his lips and nodded. "I'll be in touch."

Hawke watched him leave, and then, feeling irritated and restless, went to go shower as well.


	4. Chapter 4

The courtyard was cold, the wind pulling at the meager standard issue jacket he was given. He noticed it had buttons instead of a zipper. Perhaps they thought there was a way to escape using zippers. But as Anders looked out past the black iron gates to the Waking Sea, he thought that was unlikely. Though Kirkwall wasn't nearly as cold in the winter as Ferelden, the water became icy and the chance of hypothermia was high. And in summers, the storms that racked the bay made traveling even the short distance extremely unsafe. The only other place to go from the Gallows was the docks, and they were always patrolled by templars looking for escaped mages. He wondered if the other prisons in the city were so well guarded.

"Damn it, Alain."

He looked up at the clock tower and sighed. They were supposed to have met fifteen minutes ago, and Anders was starting to become uncomfortable in the chill. Already too skinny, the several weeks in the Gallows with its meager meals and exercise program designed specifically to keep them exhausted, he was sure he would need to wrangle an extra blanket or two somehow as the prison grew colder. He thought being in the Gallows would mean he could catch up on all the sleep he'd missed working two jobs. But the templars seemed dead set on waking them at dawn and keeping them out of their beds for as long as possible.

Somewhere above him, a siren blared. He winced. The first time it happened they were in the middle of lunch, and he'd been confused when everyone stood and walked outside.

_"Is it a fire alarm?" he asked Alain, buttoning up his coat._

_"No," Alain said grimly._

_"What is it?"_

_"It's… you'll see."_

_They filed out into the courtyard, some moving to the steps to get a better view. Alain kept Anders in the back._

_"You don't want to get close."_

_Anders watched, wide-eyed as they brought a mage girl out, not more than eighteen or nineteen. Her hands were tied behind her back. She was crying._

_"Alain… what's going on?"_

_Alain merely shook his head, lips firmly shut._

Anders could still hear her screams as they flogged her. It was such a medieval, barbaric punishment. He was sure there had to be a law against it. But Captain Cullen – and Maker, was that ever a cruel irony that he was in charge of the Gallows now – oversaw it, stopping his man after five. Then she was cleaned up, her wounds tended to, and made to sit in the old stocks they brought out for another three hours. Anders brought her water, as there didn't seem to be anything strictly against that. He'd done it for the next two that underwent the same treatment.

And their crimes? Sneaking extra food to other mages. Not completing their assigned chores after a sixteen hour day of labor. Simply having the gift of magic, in all honesty. Anders thought these types of punishments had gone out with the outlawing of locking mages up simply for being who they were. But the bias ran deep, through generations. He wondered if it would ever die out, or if people would simply continue to hand down their fear and hatred of mages to their children.

He moved toward the back of the courtyard as they brought out a tall, balding man, and Anders wondered what his imagined crime was. He scanned the area, searching amidst the sea of other orange-clad inmates for Alain, but didn't spot him. Frowning, he ducked back into the Gallows, hoping not to get caught. Strictly speaking, they weren't supposed to be inside for the punishments, though Anders knew they made exceptions. He could fake sick – the doctors in the Gallows wouldn't know an illness if it up and vomited on their shoes, after all.

The further he moved away from the square, the fainter the jeers of the other mages and the sounds of the punishment became. It was another thing that made Anders ill. He thought perhaps being surrounded by other mages there would be camaraderie. But they acted like any other prisoners in the same situation. Little groups broke off from the bigger group and the bigger fish at the littler fish. And there was always a bigger fish. The alpha maleness of the hierarchy within the Gallows' walls disgusted him. And the templars seemed to get off on it. There was a learned behavior that if you entertained the templars by beating up on your fellows, you were rewarded.

_If I ever get out…_

"N-no, Ser. Please."

Anders stopped as he moved past the laundry rooms. That was Alain's voice. Frowning, he palmed the half-open door and pushed. Alain was behind the industrial sized washer, barely visible, on his knees. A hand was in his hair, fingers threaded through the dark strands. He looked pained, tears in his eyes.

"You want me to tell the captain you failed to report for laundry duty?"

And Anders knew that voice. Alain pointed him out one of the first days they'd been made bunkmates. Ser Karras – one of the only templars who insisted on being addressed with his formal title – was someone you never wanted to be found alone with. Anders didn't ask why. The tremble in Alain's voice was enough. Anders wondered if he'd already been subjected to something at Karras's hand, or if was just a known fact. He was reminded strongly of Alrik at St. Elthina's.

"No, Ser. No. Please."

That was all Anders needed to hear, really. He didn't need his magic to tackle someone, which he did, racing into the room and catching Karras around the middle. Surprised, Karras lost his footing and fell with a cry. Alain shouted, but Anders was fueled by a righteous anger. Though he was at least twenty pounds lighter, he had the element of surprise and managed to get off three good punches to the templar's face before Karras flipped them. He withdrew his baton and swung it, aiming for Anders' head. Anders managed to raise his arm in time, catching it on his wrist. It didn't break, but the pain was no less severe.

"Flaming robe!" Karras hissed.

It was an outdated, old-world slur for a mage. Back when they made the locked up mages wear long robes or nightgowns to prevent them from running away and to further humiliate and dehumanize them. Anders had only heard it once, from a woman who'd come to his clinic for help and realized he was a mage. She spat at him and left almost as quickly. Selby made him a cup of tea after and told him about her sister who was a mage who'd been locked up decades ago. She ones one of the unfortunate ones who couldn't handle the disconnect from their magic. Selby spoke of her fondly.

Anders winced and waited for the second hit, but it never came. Karras growled at Alain to go, and Anders saw those wide brown eyes fall on him. He nodded, encouraging Alain to leave. Whatever would happen next, Anders would handle it on his own. He would keep Alain safe. Karras stood and yanked Anders to his feet, cuffing him and dragged him out. Anders kept his head down as they marched upstairs and he realized where they were going. Captain Cullen's office was this way.

"You sit there and wait," Karras said, shoving Anders to a plastic chair outside Cullen's office. He rapped sharply on the door twice and waited for the faint, 'Come in,' before going in.

Anders tried to listen to what they were saying, but couldn't make out a word. His wrist ached and he wondered how bad of a sprain it was. If he had access to his magic, it would've been healed already. He could tell it would need a splint and a sling and hoped the nurse in the infirmary wouldn’t argue the point. The door opened and Karras gestured him in. Anders went.

"Really, Karras," Cullen said with a heavy sigh. "Was it necessary to cuff him?"

"Yes, captain," Karras said. "He was violent, Ser."

Cullen waved him out. "Go get that eye seen to."

Karras bowed and left, leaving Cullen to deal with Anders and his punishment.


	5. Chapter 5

Cullen waited until the door shut before he stood, taking out a key. Anders stepped back away from him. It was ingrained in him not to trust templars, and now he found himself shackled in the presence of one, the response was almost automatic. Cullen held up his hands slowly.

"If you turn around, I can get those off," he said gently.

Anders scowled but did as he was told, wincing as the cuffs pressed into his bruised wrist. Cullen frowned, reaching forward to touch, but Anders was already turned around and stepping away, hands up defensively. Cullen took a step back, then returned to his desk, settling down. He gestured to the seat across from him.

"We'll have someone escort you to the infirmary to have that looked at. Ser Karras said he had to subdue you with force because you threw yourself at him for no reason."

"Of course he did because he's a fucking liar."

Cullen looked up suddenly at the vitriolic statement. "Have a seat, please."

"Shove your seat up your ass," Anders spat, cradling his wrist. "Karras was trying to get Alain to suck his dick in the laundry room. And if it wasn't for me, he would've gotten away with it, too."

Cullen's eyebrows raised, and Anders wanted to punch him in his shocked expression. "That's a serious accusation."

"No shit." Anders normally would've fought to be more eloquent. He wasn't the type to pepper his speech with curses, but right now he was too angry to care.

Cullen shuffled some papers before reaching back to a filing cabinet. He pulled a folder, flipped through it, and shut the drawer before opening it on the desk. Anders saw his own mug shot along with the processing paperwork. He remembered the day he came to the Gallows, Justice telling him what to do, what not to do. How to survive behind bars. But Justice had never been a mage or a templar. And prisons in Kirkwall were not the same as the Gallows. He'd spent two nights on the mainland, sleeping in a dorm with a dozen others, some mages and some not, while he waited to be shipped to the Gallows like cargo. At least in prison in Kirkwall, the men were separated from the women, and the juveniles were held in different facilities. In the Gallows there was no such segregation. Anders wondered how many mages suffered at the hands of their own because of it.

"I knew your brother," Cullen said gently, gesturing again at the chair.

Anders frowned, but sat, still holding his wrist. "So?"

"He worked in a different precinct, but I'd like to think we had quite a bit in common."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Oh. Are we doing this?"

"I'm sorry?" Cullen asked, looking up, his expression somewhat earnest.

"The part where you tell me that my brother is such a good example for society and how did I fall so far from the tree? How could we be so different because he follows the law to the letter? Listen, _captain_ ," he sneered, "you know shit all about me. So if you could tell me what kind of punishment I'm going to receive for saving my friend from getting raped by one of your men, we can skip these false pleasantries and move on with our lives."

Cullen blinked, looking unsure of what to say next. Perhaps he'd never had to deal with a prisoner like Anders, or maybe he was just so blind to the goings on in his own facility that this was something completely new to him. Anders didn't know, nor did he care. He had no sympathy for this man, didn't care if he was making his job harder. His wrist ached and he couldn't get Alain's pleading voice out of his head.

"Right." Cullen cleared his throat. "Well-"

There was a knock on the door.

"Come," said Cullen, and Anders turned to look.

A red-headed templar with a goatee peeked in. "Captain."

"Ser Thrask," Cullen addressed him. "Did you need something?"

"I was told that I'd find Anders here. He has a visitor. His lawyer."

Cullen's frown deepened. "Ah. We're just finishing up some unpleasant business."

"Are you going to have Karras arrested?" Anders spat.

Thrask raised an eyebrow. "Arrested?"

"For trying to rape Alain," Anders said, looking at Thrask. He'd seen this templar around before, thought at one point the man was stalking him, but Thrask hadn't spoken more than three words to him since he'd been in the Gallows.

Thrask frowned. "Captain?"

Cullen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "He needs to see the nurse first. His wrist is bruised and…"

"Sprained," Anders said. "It's definitely sprained and possibly a hair-line fracture though I can't tell without x-rays. Of course if you took this Maker damned collar off me I could heal it in about fifteen seconds."

"You know we can't-"

"You can," Anders corrected. "But you won't. Because you think all mages are criminals." He stood. "And you obviously won't do anything about Karras, but I swear to Andraste that if he comes near Alain again, I will castrate him."

Cullen opened his mouth, but Anders turned his back on him.

"Thrask?" Anders confirmed, and when Thrask nodded, Anders lifted his chin to the door. "I'd like an escort to the infirmary and then to the visitor's room."

Thrask opened the door a bit wider. "By your leave, captain," he said.

Anders noticed he didn't wait for Cullen to give it before they were walking out of the office and down the hall. Thrask didn't speak until they were well out of earshot of Cullen's office.

"Karras tried to rape your friend?"

"Yes, not that anyone cares." He was determined more than ever now to get out and tell the world about the Gallows. Or at the very least, have his brother look into the system. It was broken and flawed. The templars held too much power. The laws needed to be changed. Magic wasn't inherently evil and there shouldn't be any stigmas against using it, especially to heal.

"Your friend's name is Alain? The Rivaini boy?"

Anders scowled. "Yes."

Thrask said nothing, simply nodded. He waited outside the infirmary for Anders to get looked at. His wrist was wrapped and put into a sling with a notice excusing him from physical activities until he was given the all clear. It was one of the few moments in which Anders was glad his natural magical healing abilities couldn't kick in. He walked with Thrask down to the visitor's room in silence, noting the comfortable distance in which the man stood from him.

"I'll wait here and see you back to your cell after. Captain Cullen will likely decide on a punishment."

"A punishment." Anders' voice was hollow. "They're going to put me in the stocks and flog me for trying to stop Karras?"

Thrask shook his head. "At most you'll receive a few days of solitary confinement."

"Oh lucky me," Anders said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And Alain?"

Thrask pursed his lips. "I'll see to it that he's kept safe."

Anders narrowed his eyes. "Why would you do that?"

Thrask sighed. "I promised I wouldn't reveal why."

Oh that didn't sound fishy at all. "…Did someone pay you?"

A quirk of Thrask's lips. "Your lawyer is waiting."

Anders scoffed and headed into the visitor's room. Even in prison, he couldn't get away from Garrett Hawke.


	6. Chapter 6

Hawke glared at the man sitting across from him. They were in a seedy Darktown bar, one that probably had glory holes in the bathrooms, but he'd sooner piss in an alley than find out. A pint of beer sat in front of him, more a formality than out of any desire to drink it. He wouldn't be here long enough to enjoy it anyway.

"Solitary confinement."

"Five days," Thrask confirmed, frowning.

"Tell me again why, just so I have this straight."

Thrask sighed, though not out of impatience. He was disappointed in the result, but there was nothing he could do to change the punishment. "It's his word against Karras's. He says that he found Karras and Alain in the laundry room, Karras was going to force himself on the boy. So Anders stopped him."

Hawke looked down, tapping a finger on the tabletop. It sounded just like Anders to do something like that. Righting the wrongs, culling the injustices. He was so damn _good_. Sometimes to a fault. But then given the same situation would he, Hawke, really turn a blind eye to that? He hoped he wouldn't. After all, what if it had been Bethany? He spared a thought for his little sister, likely studying up on her healing magic as well as working toward an education degree. As much as he missed her, she was taking charge of her own life outside the business. Hawke had talked to Sebastian regarding that, and despite his own control issues, he trusted Sebastian to take care of Bethany.

"And Karras beat him."

"Hit him, sprained his wrist. He filed a formal complaint, but Karras is denying the charges, saying he was just talking to the boy."

"And this kid. Alain," Hawke said, looking up again. "What's he got to say?"

"He says what Karras says."

Hawke swore. "Chicken shit."

Thrask sighed. "Don't be too quick to judge, please. The fault is with Karras and the system, not the mages. The situation isn't exactly conducive to honesty. The more they agree with the other templars, the easier they believe they'll have it."

"So conflicting stories. Then what."

"Karras is on probation pending investigation but both you and I know nothing will come of it. Anders will do his five days of solitary and then be put back into the general populace. Karras will be careful not to slip again at least for a while."

Hawke's eyes narrowed. He felt anger, frustration, irritation. "Has Karras done this shit before?"

"He was accused a few years ago of raping a woman but there was no evidence. Except when she became pregnant."

"I'd say a baby is some pretty hardcore evidence," Hawke spat. "What happened?"

Thrask frowned, crossing his arms. "The child was taken away and put up for adoption. They never performed DNA tests, saying that another mage came forth and admitted to having consensual relations with her."

"If that's the truth, I'm the Divine," Hawke sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. So Karras is a piece of shit. What do we do?"

"He cannot be touched within the walls. He's also my superior so bringing charges against him, I would need a lot of concrete evidence." Thrask raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Hawke got the hint. "Doesn't look like this is something that can be done through conventional channels then."

"I haven't the faintest what you're talking about," Thrask said with a quirk of the lip. "But I think you should definitely write him a strongly worded letter about your feelings on the matter." He withdrew a small, folded piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table, leaning forward to do so.

Hawke smirked, taking it up and slipping it in his pocket. He didn't need to look. He knew what needed to be done. "So Anders spoke to his lawyer."

"A… Zevran Arainai?"

The smirk became a smile. "Jack of all trades, that guy." Zevran was the assassin who trained Fenris. One of Isabela's contacts. Apparently he was also educated in law and could talk circles around anyone faster than even Varric. His honeyed words would be invaluable when it came to the trial. "And he's in solitary for five days. Maker, that must be hell." Hawke couldn't imagine it.

"He'll be okay."

"Don't," Hawke warned him. "Don't tell me that because if he's not, I'm coming for you next for not taking care of him properly."

Thrask frowned, but said nothing. Hawke was glad of that. The rumor mill was that since losing Anders, he'd become soft. He would simply have to start correcting that misconception lest people start getting ideas that they could walk all over him. Meeran burst into his turf, killed his men, and Hawke was still hunting down the Red Iron. There were none left in the Free Marches, but he'd extended his own fingers out to Nevarra, where they'd been before returning to Kirkwall. Though the Winters were still pissed with him for putting their leader Ginnis in prison, some were pleased because it opened the ranks to other, more capable leaders. They would cooperate. It was just a matter of finding the right person and the right price. And then Hawke would truly rid Thedas of the Red Iron scum. He would send a message. You simply did not fuck with Garrett Hawke and get away with it.

"Away from the general populace he'll at least be spared of any fallout from Karras's probation."

"Are you telling me Karras has friends? Or are we talking pet inmates."

"There's Wilmod, he's just a recruit but he's awfully eager to prove himself. Another one, Mettin, he's a bit of an idiot. And then the most recent recruit, Keran-"

Hawke sat up fast, disturbing the untouched mug of ale. "What?" he ground out, fists clenched.

Thrask sat back, though in the booth there was nowhere else for him to go unless he was to run. He cleared his throat and repeated calmly. "Keran."

"Babyface, blond hair?" Hawke asked, glaring now.

"That's him. He took the position after his parents died. He's putting his sister through school."

"Get me a picture of him," Hawke said, dangerously quiet. "If it's the guy I'm thinking of, I'll need to have a word with him."

Could it be the same one? The name wasn't that popular in the Free Marches, was it? Keran, the one who botched the job years ago, who killed Anders' lover, who caused him so much pain. Hawke gave him a reprieve, sent him running. He was starting to think that mercy was his biggest weakness. All his compassion was coming back to bite him hard on the ass. And that Keran was playing lackey to someone like Karras. If Thrask was to be trusted – and Hawke did, at least on this – Karras was one of the worst in the Gallows. There was something to be said about abuse of power and responsibility among this corrupt order. Hawke was starting to think that men like Thrask were the exception.  
"Of course," Thrask agreed.

"Thank you," he said. "…I'd like to continue our deal, but add Anders' friend what's-his-name as well."

Thrask nodded. "He's a good kid."

Hawke withdrew a thick envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to Thrask, who took it and tucked it into his own coat.

"I have calls to make. Get me that picture."

"I will, Hawke."

Hawke slid out of the booth, tossing down a few dollars to pay for the beer and headed outside to the parking lot. He withdrew his phone, getting into his SUV, and hit the speed dial.

"Talk to me."

"Varric I need you to find out everything you can on a couple of names."

"I'm listening."

"Karras. Mettin. Wilmod. Keran. And… Alain."

"Anything else?"

Hawke frowned. "The first four are… persons of interest. Templars. The fifth… I want a run down on his incarceration."

"You got it."

Varric hung up and Hawke sat for a moment, pensive. Anders was in solitary, but he'd met with Zevran. The trial would likely be soon and he would be out. Which meant Hawke had only a short time to do reconnaissance on the address in his pocket. Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the Pearl.


	7. Chapter 7

Hawke parked behind the Pearl, avoiding the crowded front lot. The motion detector light kicked on and he winced, watching as the shadow of a cat raced from its hiding spot and into the bushes. He spared a thought for Ser Pounce-a-lot, having found out that Justice had taken him in. Hawke would've been happy to bring the cat to the estate. Sandal wouldn't have minded him. Pounce might have even been good company for the kid. But Anders would've been livid.

He'd gone to the apartment after Justice cleaned it out, taking a cleanup crew with him. Then he spoke with the landlady about it and made sure Anders would get his full deposit back. Meeran's men had really trashed the place. But at least Anders would be getting out of that rat hole and into something better. Hawke wrote in one of the letters he'd sent, inviting Anders to come stay with him after he was released. He knew it was a long shot, but he had to. The thought of Anders floundering after taking the fall for a job that should have been flawless was unbearable. He only hoped the trial date would come sooner than later.

He pulled open the Employees Only door and winced at the loud club music permeating even through to the back hall. On any normal night he'd be able to handle it, but lately everything was an irritation. He was restless. He needed to fight or to fuck or both. The only person he wanted to fuck was in the Gallows and likely not to touch him with a ten foot pole. As far as fighting? Well, hopefully Merrill could assist with him that. Some surveillance on Karras's house and he would have the man's schedule pinned down. Then, when he least expected it, Hawke would get the jump on him and make him pay for every mage he'd ever laid a hand on.

He hadn't forgotten either the tale that Anders told about Alrik, how Alrik had hurt him. He still remembered Anders' visceral anger when Hawke brought up the name.

_"I hope you kill the bastard."_

He remembered sitting in the car after, watching Anders relive the painful memory of how Alrik assaulted him. And Alrik would pay. But Karras was a more immediate threat. And if they had to resort to a plan B or C if this plea bargain fell through, the less Hawke had to worry about Anders being raped in prison, the better. He was doing a good deed, after all. Making the Gallows a safer place for mages one templar at a time.

The music faded behind him as he descended the back staircase. He would have to visit Isabela once he was done here and tell her to find a new DJ. Then again, she might want to talk about Anders, and he definitely wasn't up for that. They spoke after regarding her brief captivity with Meeran, and Hawke handled it somewhat poorly. There were very few situations that he couldn't either throw money at or threaten someone to make things okay again. If he hadn't already killed Meeran, he would've ripped the man apart for touching Isabela. She just shook her head at his anger, assured him she would be fine after a long hot shower and a bottle of vodka. Merrill stayed with her the next few nights, and Hawke had sent Fenris to oversee the Pearl's administrative duties. Isabela told him in the end that it wasn't his fault, but he still felt responsible. There was, however, nothing he could do about it and he hated feeling so utterly out of control.

Trying to push those memories from his mind, he carefully knocked on the heavy metal door that blocked off Merrill's lab from the rest of the basement. The camera in the corner swiveled and he waved at it before he heard the door's automatic lock disengage. He pushed it open and went inside, shutting it behind him. Merrill was nowhere to be seen, but he was sure she'd pop up soon.

The lab was large, nearly running the entire length of the club. One section was cordoned off for actual chemistry. Merrill could do amazing things with poisons and traps – one of the reasons she worked so well with Isabela. Merrill constructed and Isabela implemented. She was also invaluable with her blood magic skills, both tracking and destruction. She was learning from Sandal, though the process was slow, since Sandal never seemed to have a formula, he just constructed and miracles happened.

Another area was a makeshift kitchen, a mini fridge and pantry cabinet, a small table and coffee pot that was nearly always in use. A few feet away from that was a small bed for when Merrill inevitably passed out working on whatever it was she worked on late into the night. Her official residence for tax purposes was with Isabela, who had a lovely apartment in one of the rare nice areas of Lowtown. But Merrill was used to a nomadic lifestyle and slept on all their couches at one point or another, even ending up curled on one of the booths in the Hanged Man overnight once. It was one of her quirks, and what essentially made Merrill Merrill.

He approached the far area of the lab, which was a hodgepodge of computer related bits and bobs. Old CRT monitors, hollowed out desktops, parts and pieces. An enormous server cabinet, fans and all, was pushed into a corner. Despite the fans, the basement always ran a little hot especially in the summer. And there was a sizable desk with six monitors running different programs in a configuration that honestly broke Hawke's brain. Five of those six monitors displayed different websites, programs, a CCTV security camera that flipped from outside the Pearl to outside the basement, to various cameras in Hawke's estate. The sixth monitor was displaying cartoons.

Merrill was curled in her office chair, a bowl of cereal held between her thin fingers, headphones on as she watched, eyes glued to the flashing colors. Hawke came up slowly. Merrill was easily startled, and he had no desire to be the cause of a cereal laden keyboard. She looked up, wide eyes shining in the flickering monitor lights, and grinned, pulling her headphones down around her neck.

"Hawke! I saw you come in on the monitor. Oh! Sorry about the mess."

"It's fine, Merrill," he said gently.

And it was. Merrill's space was always a bit of a mess, except her computer desk which was kept more or less pristine. She got up now to deposit the bowl in the large basin sink before settling back down, waving him into a fraying armchair. She curled up again and reached forward to pause the cartoon, hugging her knees to her chest.

"You look sad," she noted. "Is it because you miss Anders?"

Hawke really needed to stop letting his family ask questions like that. But he couldn't berate Merrill for her concern. Maker, maybe he _was_ getting soft.

"It's just been a long day. I need you to find out some information for me."

"Of course." She grabbed the edge of her desk and pulled the rolling chair to a better position so she could type.

Hawke read her the address he'd committed to memory. "I need entrances, exits, the comings and goings of the household. Tell me if he's got any security, anything I need to worry about."

"Oh! Like killer guard dogs."

"Yes," Hawke said patiently. "A killer guard dog would put a damper on things."

"How long should I keep an eye out? And anything else I should be looking for?"

Hawke debated how much he should tell Merrill. "He's a templar."

Merrill frowned, fingers slowing on the keyboard. "Does this have to do with Anders?"

"Yes." There was no reason to lie to her, after all. "This man… he's…"

The frown deepened. "Hawke, does he hurt mages?"

He wasn't sure why he tried to keep Merrill innocent of things. She was fully capable in her job, and far from being a child. Hell, he'd seen her naked and in bed with Isabela. Even joined in. He knew what she was capable of, and while she was naïve with certain things, was somewhat socially awkward due to her sheltered upbringing, she was an adult.

"Yes. He's been accused of rape but never convicted."

Merrill's small mouth tightened into a thin line, her lips nearly disappearing. "All right."

"He hurt Anders."

"Did he…"

"No," Hawke said. _Thank the Maker for small favors._ "But it doesn't matter. Men like him don't deserve to live."

Merrill nodded. "I won't let you down, Hawke. I'll call you as soon as I find anything."

Hawke stood and leaned down, kissing her on the top of the head before squeezing her shoulder. "You never let me down, Merrill."

She grinned, and he found himself returning it, if a bit mirthlessly. He left, debating stopping to talk to Isabela, but figured Merrill would fill her in, and instead went home. After all, if Carver was going to be locked up soon, it would be the last few days he had to spend quality time with his little brother.


	8. Chapter 8

White walls would be his end.

Anders lay on the perfectly made bed, his standard issue non-slip shoes propped against the wall, knees at ninety degrees. His hands were folded, tucked behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. There were no cracks here like the one in the ceiling in his apartment. On a good day, it looked like a dragon. On a bad day, a cow with a very long tail. No, there was nothing on this ceiling or the walls, unless you counted the scratch marks of the inmates that were there before him. And Anders didn't. He had added his own to them though, counting the days. This would be his last.

Of course he had no idea if someone was going to come for him tonight or if he had to spend one more night there and be retrieved in the morning. The first day wasn't horrible. He was used to being alone on his days off, and it felt similarly to that. However, in his apartment he had access to his laptop, a television, his cat. He could leave if he wanted to. He could dance naked in the living room if he so felt like it. But here it was four walls, a bed, a toilet and sink and an uncomfortable vinyl chair with a multipurpose shelf. Meals were deposited into the slot under the door and he had access to paper and pencil. Not that he felt like writing. All the time and quiet in the world and he couldn't think of a single thing to write.

But he thought a lot. About the Gallows, about Alain begging for mercy. Karras's face as Anders punched him again. Cullen's bewildered ignorance. How he never really spared a whole lot of thought for the mages locked up here and other places. Kinloch Hold in Ferelden, where Karl's great-great grandfather was held and the White Spire in Val Royeaux in Orlais. There were others all over Thedas of course, but those two he'd done cursory research on for history papers in school. He was a foolish teenager, angry with the world. His largely pro-mage/pro-magic made him a target for others who, if they didn't suspect he was a mage, at least knew he was a mage sympathizer. He spent more of his lunch hours in Karl's classroom or the library than anywhere.

And now he was suffering the ultimate penalty for using magic. Magic that saved a life. Carver's. He didn't regret it, not one bit. Given the chance he'd do it again. There were so many instances he knew that if he'd just been allowed to use a bit of magic, he could have saved someone. If the doctors who operated on Karl could've used magic… No, he wouldn't think about it. There was no way of knowing that for sure. And magic, as impressive and powerful as it was, was fallible. Maker, he missed it now. He tugged futilely for a moment at his collar before sighing and getting to his knees.

The window was small, but he could see out over the courtyard. At night, it was impressive to see the city of Kirkwall lit up like so many shining jewels. Mostly from Hightown of course, set atop a large hill overlooking the rest of the city. He wondered which light was Hawke's, if the estate was even visible from the Gallows so far below. And then he felt angry, his guilty thoughts straying back to that insufferable man. He'd thought about him more than Karl, locked up as he was. He should be focused on that, on his trial, on getting out and changing the system. He should be sitting and writing about the injustices incarcerated mages had to suffer. Not that they were all innocent, some had used their magic maliciously, but some were as innocuous as using a fireball to light a bonfire. 

He sighed and fell back to the bed, the thin, uncomfortable mattress, and thought about his own bed. The queen sized mattress that Hawke had bought – and there it was again. He tried to force the man from his mind, but like how Hawke had barreled into his life, he refused to leave his thoughts. Anders rolled to his side, facing the wall, picking idly at the white paint, then closed his eyes. They'd been together such a short time, but he'd been so happy. So content. Even if it was just curling up with him to watch a movie. It felt…

"Damn it."

It felt like how it had with Karl. Simple. Once they'd gotten through the initial animosity and frustration, once Hawke stopped acting like an arrogant asshole and actually treated him like an equal instead of a charity case, Anders found it was easy to be with him. And then the illusion shattered. It wasn't just about Karl, though that was a very large part of it. How could he be with someone who was however remotely responsible for Karl's death? Who was responsible for the deaths of so many others? He thought of Brekker's face in the rear view mirror as Fenris punched him again. Of Meeran's lifeless eyes after Hawke shot him in the head. 

He'd fallen in love with a cold-blooded killer. Unfortunately those feelings didn't disappear just because he saw Hawke for what he was, or learned of his involvement in Karl's death. And what would Justice say if he found out? He would probably blame Hawke. A part of him wanted to tell Justice, just to see what would happen. Another part wanted to defend Hawke, to tell the world that he wasn't a monster, that he could be so loving. But you couldn't pick and choose which part of a person you loved like they were some sort of Jekyll and Hyde. Hawke was both tender and protective and also cold and ruthless. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get past that other half now that he'd seen it firsthand.

He rolled over and off the bed when the food tray was slid in. Supper, as the sun was going down slowly. He missed watching it from Hawke's bedroom as he had a few times, the light sinking behind the Vimmark Mountains, Hawke promising to take him to the peak of Sundermount one day. They would hike and camp and fuck under the stars. Anders laughed a little, wanting to call it making love. But each one of their couplings had been quick and needy, almost desperate. Would Hawke enjoy a leisurely session?

_Damn it!_

His traitorous brain. He didn't need to be thinking of Hawke and sex now as he sat, eating what looked like minced meat and gravy and the saddest green beans he'd ever seen. He had to focus on his upcoming trial, on what his lawyer wanted him to do and say. The Antivan was smooth and sharp, and Anders had no trouble following what was going to happen. He felt a certain bit of frustration that Carver would essentially be taking his place, but at the very least he wouldn't be in the Gallows.

He barely touched the food before sliding it back through the slot and returned to bed, feet up against the wall once more. Lights out was happening soon, and it looked like he had one more night to spend in solitary. The second he got out of there, he decided, he would have to restrain himself not to leap on Alain in joy for human contact. Resigned to one more night, he curled up and closed his eyes and tried not to think about Hawke.


	9. Chapter 9

It was always easier when they didn't have a wife or kids, Hawke thought. In Karras's case, he didn't even have a pet goldfish. The little white house at the end of the street lined with other little white houses was dull and boring. The blue octagonal sign tucked into the flower bed was nothing but a formality when it came to Merrill's prowess. She had the security down in seconds. And Hawke, who sat in his SUV just down the street, watching, waited until the lights in the house turned off. Beside him, Fenris was checking his ammo clip. It was just a habit. After all, Fenris made sure he was well armed before he left the estate on a job. He was efficient that way.

The downstairs light flicked off and one upstairs turned on. Hawke still waited. He was no assassin. And while he could send Fenris in quietly, or even could've had Isabela slip in undetected and slit Karras's throat without so much as a floorboard creaking, Hawke felt this was personal. Karras had hurt Anders, and Karras would pay for that slight. The bedroom light turned off, but the flickering of a television was still visible. He waited fifteen minutes before his impatience got the better of him.

"Wait," Fenris muttered as Hawke made to grab for the door handle.

He waited. There was another light that flicked on, then a minute later off again. A bathroom. The television turned off, and finally all was dark. Fenris slid from the car and Hawke followed. They walked together down the street, Hawke's coat fluttering around his knees in the chilly night air. Winter was coming soon, he could smell it. Not that the changing of the seasons particularly affected him. Business would be business no matter if it was freezing or sun blazing overhead. But he spared a thought now for those in the Gallows, for Anders. It had to be chilly on that rock in the middle of the Waking Sea.

No, he had to concentrate. He couldn't afford to be distracted now. Getting involved with the man had been a bad idea to begin with. He was a liability for jobs. It was easier to sate his lust with a random faceless person or even curl up for a night with Isabela than to get involved with Anders of all people. But he couldn't stop now. He was in much too deep. He would see this through, even if Anders never spoke to him again. And Maker, what a thought that was.

_Focus!_

Fenris withdrew a glass cutter, removing the bottom square of the back door's window. Hawke wasn't sure how he managed to get it out without it shattering, placing it in the potted plant next to the door. With gloved hands he reached in and unlocked the door and they slipped inside silently. Karras was on probation, which likely meant it would be days before anyone discovered the body. By that time, any DNA evidence left behind would be contaminated. And there likely wouldn't be any, considering Hawke had been murdering professionally now for years. His was a less subtle style, but Fenris was Tevinter- and Antivan-trained. Hawke watched him now, moving with cat-like grace through the kitchen, his eyes adjusting to the darkness before Hawke's.

Hawke was careful up the stairs, testing each carpeted step before putting his full weight on it. The hall at the top was short, boasting three doors. Two bedrooms and a bathroom. Hawke peered into one – an office with an open laptop. Curiosity made him note that. He would see if there was anything on the drive of use, perhaps bring it back to Merrill to look at. Fenris turned the knob of the other door in his hand easily, peering in. He motioned to Hawke the signal Hawke knew meant he had eyes on Karras.

It would be easy for Fenris to shoot him now in bed and they could leave. But Hawke wanted this man to suffer. Maybe not through rape or torture, but through fear. He wanted Karras to understand why he was going to die, and to accept the fact that while you could be a piece of shit and get ahead in life, you couldn't fuck with Hawke and his family and get away with it. Fenris slipped in and Hawke followed. It happened in a bit of a flurry, Fenris grabbing the man's mouth to keep him from screaming, straddling his chest to pin him down, wrists grabbed up in one hand.

Hawke kept the light off, but the moonlight was enough. Karras's eyes widened comically as he stepped into view. Hawke would've laughed if he hadn't felt so angry looking at the man who dared to hurt Anders, who raped mages in his charge. Didn't templars have any decency? And again, Hawke wondered if Thrask was the only one with any morals. He sneered at Karras, moving closer.

"If I have my man remove his hand, will you be smart enough not to scream?" he asked, racking his pistol and pressing it to Karras's head.

Karras nodded quickly. Fenris climbed off and removed his hand from Karras's mouth, then reached under his pillow, pulling out a gun. Hawke smirked.

"So much for protection," he said. "Keep your hands above the covers where I can see them or I'll shoot you in the head." He was going to anyway, but Karras didn't need to know that. "Do you know who I am?"

Karras narrowed his eyes. "Garrett Hawke."

_Good._

"And if you know me, I assume you know who my lover is."

Karras's lip curled into a sneer. "Yes."

It was over the media, after all. Anders' face, pictures of him as he was brought into the squad car, videos of him being taken from prison to the Gallows. And then paparazzi photos of them together in the car, of them out in restaurants, of Hawke at the hospital picking him up after work. Hawke knew there were paparazzi everywhere. He was just only careful about shaking them when he was on a job. The reporters had called the estate several times, but Hawke declined to interview, Varric handling PR. Leandra had been aflutter with irritation over the scandal. It was another one of the many reasons he'd shipped her to Orlais.

"You hurt him."

"That bitch-"

Hawke punched him in the face. Karras's lip started to bleed. 

"Did you want to try again without the insult?" Hawke asked, eyebrow raised. Karras remained silent. "I thought not. This isn't just about him. This is about the other mage boy you tried to rape. And all the others you took advantage of. And people say I'm a sick fuck." He laughed quietly.

Karras started to sit up, and it was Fenris this time who punched him, knocking him back to the mattress.

"Any last words?"

Karras opened his mouth, and Hawke shot him. The silencer muffled the noise and really, if Karras had had any hope that he was getting out alive, the man was dumber than he looked. Hawke waved Fenris out and they crossed back to the hall.

"Just a second," he said, and slipped into the office. 

The laptop wasn't even password protected he realized as he leaned over and swiped a gloved finger across the touchpad. The background was a picture of a sleek, expensive looking Antivan-made sports car that Karras could never afford in a million years. Hawke? He could buy three tomorrow if he wanted. He pulled up the recent browsing history and saw news articles on himself and Anders. So the bastard had done his research. Scowling, he pulled up the email, and shook his head slightly at the fact that Karras left himself logged in. Apparently he never believed he would have enemies coming for him. One of them entitled, "His lover," caught his eye. It was dated just before Anders was incarcerated.

**From: janedoe567985@kmail.com  
** To: karman78@kmail.com  
Subject: His lover 

_Karras,_

_He won't talk. I half-expected him to, considering Hawke's involvement in Thekla's death, but it seems Hawke breeds an unyielding loyalty of his people. He'll be coming your way soon. Put pressure on him. Make him talk, or I'll have you removed and put you on ass-wiping duty in Orlais._

There was no signature, but Hawke knew there were only a handful of people who could reassign templars, and one who would have had access to Anders before he was put into the Gallows. But just to be sure, he would take his suspicions to the one person who would definitely have the answers. He closed up the laptop and unplugged it, taking it with him.

"Come on," he said to Fenris, who'd been waiting in the hall. "We're going to talk to Aveline."


	10. Chapter 10

Hawke tossed the laptop in the back seat. He would have Merrill go through it and copy any emails of interest, though he didn't expect to find anything else. What could possibly be there? A conspiracy to take him down? He was about to laugh at the thought when he stopped. Was it that far out of the scope of reality? After all, why would someone want Karras to press Anders for information about him? And Anders… Anders hadn't told whomever it was a damn thing. He knew on some level that Anders had kept quiet, but this confirmed it. It didn't mean Anders forgave him for anything, but it was a start.

"Coming in?" Hawke asked, pulling into the spot marked "RESERVED."

Fenris grunted, and Hawke grinned. He peeled off his gloves and got out, leaving the keys in the ignition for the radio and headed inside. The precinct was the same, the only difference the bulletin board showing the new month and winter announcements. Brennan sat behind the front desk, head down as she scribbled a few reports. There was time when Hawke would've stayed to flirt, but she barely looked up at him.

"Messere Hawke," she greeted hollowly.

Hawke frowned. "Everything all right?" After she drove him to the hospital for stitches, he felt maybe they had achieved a certain closeness. He guessed he was wrong.

"Fine, just need to get this report in before next shift." She offered him a terse smile before looking down again. 

Hawke shrugged. Aveline had always been a harsh taskmaster after all. So he didn't bother her further, moving down the hall. The captain's office door was half open and he gave a perfunctory knock before pushing it open.

"Hey, Aveli-"

Justice looked up from behind the desk, eyes moving from his laptop onto Hawke. Hawke paused in the doorway, frowning as he glanced around. Aveline's coat was missing from the rack in the corner, a long brown trench coat and standard issue puffy police winter jacket there instead. The diplomas and accolades that had hung on the walls were gone, faint white rectangles in their place. And the filing cabinet was missing the kickboxing trophy that Aveline had been proud to display. He stepped in warily.

"Something I can do for you, Mr. Hawke?" Justice asked, removing his hands from the keyboard and folding them gently on the desk.

"Where's the captain?" Hawke asked carefully.

Justice cleared his throat and leaned forward, tapping his nameplate that sat on the desk. It was preceded by the word "Captain" and Hawke felt a terrible sinking feeling in his gut. This had to be some terrible joke.

"Oh alright, I get it. April fools."

"It is not April."

Hawke frowned. "Where's Aveline?"

"Transferred."

A muscle in Hawke's jaw twitched. Transferred? "So which precinct is she in now?"

"Six-ten."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. That wasn't a Kirkwall number. Hell, that didn't even sound like a Free Marches number. "And that would be in…"

"Ferelden. Specifically the Bannorn."

"The B-" Hawke cut off, running a hand through his hair. And Justice smirked. It took all of Hawke's self-control not to punch him in the face. That most definitely would get him locked up for the night if not longer. "When did this happen?"

"She received her transfer papers last week."

If Justice was any other person, Hawke would've sworn there was a hint of amusement in his face and tone. But Justice struck him as someone who had no idea what it meant to be amused.

"Was there something I could assist you with, Mr. Hawke?"

This was too much. And Justice was likely enjoying this, impassive face and all. Without giving him the courtesy of a farewell, Hawke turned to leave.

"Mr. Hawke."

He bristled, but turned back to look at him. "What?"

Justice's cool blue eyes narrowed and his tone changed from polite and somewhat arrogant to deep, and serious. "Stay away from my brother."

Hawke clenched his fists, then folded his arms to keep himself from going for his gun. Or simply vaulting the desk and punching him. He owed him two, after all. "Last I checked, Anders was a consenting adult. If he wants me to fuck him, he'll let me fuck him."

Justice stood, and for a moment Hawke thought the man was actually going to make a move against him. Instead, he simply sighed and shuffled a few papers before looking up again. "You've known him for approximately two and a half months. In that time, he became withdrawn from me, angry and upset, and got himself incarcerated for using magic – something he's never done before, not even in his misguided youth. You have a way, Mr. Hawke, of bringing the absolute worst out of people and for some inexplicable reason they continue to come back to you. My brother is a good person, and you shouldn't be so eager to take that away from him. So yes," he relented, "Anders may seek you out, may even forgive you for your role in his arrest, though I cannot prove you were involved that night. But if you love him as you claim to do, you will leave him alone and let him piece together his own life."

Hawke almost wished Justice would throw a punch, if only so he could justify taking a swing. "Fuck you, asshole. You don't know a thing about us."

There was a very hard, tight-lipped and mirthless smile. "On the contrary, I've known Anders since the day he was born. I was with him through the hardships in his life and I will continue to be there for him long after you're simply a memory. There is no one who knows him better than I. If you pursue him, I swear to the Maker that I will find the one discretion in your file and have you put away for life. Remember, serah," he said evenly, "even the most careful of criminals are locked up on the simplest of charges. Try not to jaywalk."

"That's slander," Hawke spat. "I could drag you to court over that."

"Then by all means," Justice said. "If you wish to declare war."

They stared at one another moment longer until Hawke turned on his heel and stormed up to the front.

"Brennan, I need to look at your visitor's book."

She looked up, frowning, but handed him the thick journal. He flipped through it until he found the date he was looking for. Of course, the information he needed wasn't there. Someone either didn't sign in or it wasn't the person he thought. Aveline would've told him in a second.

"Was Commander Meredith here the night of the Red Iron Takedown?"

"Officer Brennan."

Hawke looked down the hall to see Justice leaning out of his office. Brennan sat up a bit and leaned over, frowning.

"Captain?"

"Is Mr. Hawke harassing you?"

"No, sir."

Hawke scowled and handed the book back to Brennan. He would just have to confirm his suspicions in another way. Surely Aveline would still be able to answer a few simple questions. Unable to help himself, he flipped Justice off and headed out. Fenris turned the radio off as he got in and put the car into gear a bit roughly. Fenris said nothing, but Hawke could hear the unspoken question.

"Aveline's been transferred. They put Anders' brother in charge. Whole precinct'll go to hell in a week, tops."

"Hm."

"You know," Hawke snapped as he pulled out of the lot, "sometimes that strong, silent type motif you got going is really fucking irritating."

Fenris scowled. "You fix problems, Hawke. That's what you do. You've grown too used to having obstacles removed for you that you've forgotten how good you used to be at figuring things out for yourself."

"…I liked you better silent."

Fenris huffed and turned to look out the window, and Hawke flicked the radio back on. He hated that Fenris had a point, though. Maybe he had gotten complacent in his life. He could deal with this upset. Even if Justice continued to block him professionally, he wouldn't let him do it personally. Anders was his, and as soon as he helped get him out of the Gallows, Hawke would prove it.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hmm. The blue suit, I think? Yes, good!"

Anders sighed and undressed for the fourth time. He'd had some trepidation getting changed in front of his lawyer as he seemed to be somewhat handsy, but Justice's glare kept him at bay. The man was short and tan, his sun-bleached blond hair tied back in intricate braids. Anders wondered how anyone would be able to take him seriously, but Varric assured him that Zevran Arainai was the best. Justice watched, tutting as Anders pulled on the blue jacket, and Anders had to bat at his hands when he reached forward.

"I can tie my own tie, Justice!" He did so, and scowled when Zevran unknotted it. "I'm not an invalid!"

Zevran smirked. "No, but your knot-tying skills leave much to be desired, my friend. We can work on that after I get you off. Or during, as the case may be."

Anders pursed his lips at the innuendo. Justice scowled, fighting the urge to shove Zevran away from his brother. Zevran tilted Anders' chin up, then stepped back, looking him over.

"The anti-magic collar is a bit of a problem."

"Oh you think?" Anders said sarcastically.

"My apologies. That was insensitive." Zevran fell silent a moment, eyeing him up and then down again. "Button the top button of your jacket, unbutton when you sit down. And don't slouch. It will make the fabric wrinkle and you will look like a pauper."

Anders did as he was told. "For a lawyer, you know a lot about fashion."

"For a lawyer, I know a lot about a lot of things that have nothing to do with law." Zevran winked.

"Are we done?" Justice growled.

"Yes, yes," Zevran said, chuckling. "Let us go and, as they say, face the music."

Anders accepted the pat on the arm from Justice, who'd be sitting behind him, and followed Zevran into the courtroom. It was similar to the courtrooms he'd seen on TV, though smaller and not as impressive-looking. The wood was light and tan, and he supposed mahogany just looked better on camera. Zevran gestured him into a seat. Anders did, unbuttoning his coat as he sat, knee jiggling nervously as he turned to look at the crowd.

"Anders!"

He frowned and swiveled to look. "Bethany?"

She was sitting there at the end of the row, grinning and waving a bit. He waved back, and she slid down the bench to talk to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, though a part of him was very pleased to see her. She looked good too, her hair around her shoulders in curly waves, dressed in a grey business suit with a light pink shirt. "You look really… Very nice," he said finally.

She reached out to touch his hand and her smile broadened. "I came here for moral support, of course. I took a bit of leave from classes but don't worry, I'm keeping up with the work."

He was pleased she was being so responsible, and felt a sentimental lump in his throat that she cared that much to come down to see him. "Sebastian?" he ventured.

Bethany shook her head. "He had to stay in Starkhaven for business. But we're all getting together for Christmas. Well, except poor Carver, I guess. I doubt he'll make parole before then."

Anders frowned a little. "He doesn't have to do it…"

"Yes he does," she said seriously. "It's the least we can do for you after you saved his life. Don't forget that." Her tone changed, becoming a bit lighter. "Have… you talked to Garrett?"

The frown became a storm cloud, his face falling into a glare. She backed off a bit as he spoke. "No. Nor do I plan on it."

"Whatever happened between you two, whatever happened… that night," she said evasively, not wanting to reveal what she knew in a courtroom that had ears, "you can reconcile, can't you?"

Despite her new business suit, Bethany was still young. Anders sighed. He wasn't angry with her. She hadn't done anything to deserve his ire. She was simply born into a family that seemed to have very few morals.

"It's not that simple, Bethany."

"He's here you know."

Anders' eyes shot to the direction in which she gestured. In the very back, through the milling crowd, Anders saw him. He was sitting in the last row, one arm draped over the back of the pew, phone to his ear. He wasn't looking at Anders, and Anders couldn't make out one bit of the conversation, nor read his lips. Conducting 'business' no doubt. His own lips curled into a sneer, heart beating rapidly. He turned around resolutely, trying not to think of how close Hawke was, how easy it would be to call out to him, to talk to him. He pressed a hand to his chest, frowning. He wanted to hate him. And he would, once his instinctive reactions to seeing him or even thinking about him calmed down.

"You should give him another chance," Bethany said behind him. "He's an idiot, but he loves you. And how often does love like that happen in a lifetime?"

He was about to respond to her when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and felt immediately guilty for being disappointed that it wasn't Hawke. Justice had come around and was settling himself behind Anders. He would likely be called as a character witness. Someone of the city to vouch for Anders, someone who was there that night who saw how upset he'd been.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and Anders noticed he was glaring at Bethany.

"It's fine, Justice. Bethany, my brother. Justice, Bethany Hawke."

She smiled and held her hand out to him. Justice shook out of propriety and let go just as quickly. Bethany gave Anders a look, eyebrows raised. She seemed amused. Regardless, she slid back to her spot down the row and Justice sat.

"You shouldn't be speaking with any of that family. Once they assist in exonerating you, it's best to cut off all contact from them, lest they make you an accessory to something worse than magic use."

Anders scowled. "Maybe the use of magic shouldn't be illegal. All I did was save a man's life and they want to punish me for that. I do that every day in my job anyway and people thank me for it. If we could just use magic for-"

Justice shook his head slowly, as if Anders was a small child he was about to explain something very complicated and over his head to. "Regardless of the moral implications of magic use for one application or another, the law states that-"

"The law is wrong."

It was the wrong thing to say. Justice lived his life by the letter of the law. It was the reason it took him so long to get promoted through the ranks in the first place. Everything with him was by the books. He was excellent behind a desk with paperwork and reports. He'd climbed to the top of the precinct, but he did it through hard work, determination, and exposing corruption. When a few "missing reports" came into question and Aveline hand-waved them, Justice went over her head to get her replaced. It was something he'd wanted to do for a long time, and Anders was proud of him. But it also meant that Justice would never stop believing that the law was all there was.

But thankfully Justice couldn't respond, as the bailiff was calling all to rise. Feeling a little nervous and lot anxious, Anders stood, nodding sickly at Zevran's encouraging smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Anders accepted the congratulations from those he passed in the hall with a meek sort of smile. Zevran kept a hand on his shoulder, guiding him through the courthouse, grinning at the reporters and the cameras. He really was made for this, and Anders let him be charming for him. Justice walked behind him, a comforting presence as they waited while Zevran gathered the details. _Probation_ , the judge had said. _House arrest._ Of course, Anders didn't really have a house at the moment, his lease on the apartment broken. He'd be staying with his brother until he sorted things out with the hospital and the clinic. 

Zevran handed him a folder. "Two weeks with the collar and two full months of house arrest. Not bad, considering the circumstances, though I wish I could have done better, my friend."

Anders shook his head a little. "It's fine. You did better than my last lawyer." The man hadn't even really been in contact, and when he had, even Anders could tell he was bumbling and getting paid by the state. "Thank you," he said sincerely, and shook his hand.

"If you ever have need of me," Zevran added, taking out a business card. He reached forward and tucked it into the inside pocket of Anders' coat with a grin. "Now to face my adoring public. Keep your chin up, yes?"

Anders nodded and watched him disappear, taking quite a few of the reporters with him. For that, he was glad. Justice handled the rest, putting on his best Police Captain face which, despite not being in the position very long, was pretty convincing. They gained the outside of the courthouse and down the steps to where Justice's car was, ignoring the reporters and the cameras when Anders stopped suddenly. There was a very familiar man leaning against Justice's car, a broad smirk on his face.

"Hello, Anders."

There was a moment of stunned recognition, and then Anders was all but leaping into his friend Nathaniel Howe's arms. Nathaniel laughed, hugging him tightly, thumping his back enthusiastically. Anders was only half aware of the popping of camera bulbs around him. He moved back, holding his friend at arm's length to look at him.

"You look good," Anders said sincerely. His hair was a bit longer than he remembered, he was slightly broader in the chest, and he looked happy. "The last time I saw you…" It had been Karl's funeral. They kept in touch over the years, but Nathaniel had been busy, and Anders rarely had time off.

"I know," he said, smiling. "I thought perhaps we could-"

"Anders."

The elation he felt seconds ago fizzled out as Anders turned to see Hawke with Bethany at his side. Justice, who had always had a guarded tolerance for Nathaniel, moved now between Anders and Hawke, arms crossed. Hawke ignored him, stepping to the side so he could look at Anders.

"Who's your friend?" Hawke asked tersely.

"None of your damn business," Anders shot back, heart racing. _Maker, just go away. Please._ "I'd say it's been a pleasure seeing you again, but…"

Hawke glared at Nathaniel. "Oh. I know who you are."

"And I you, Mr. Hawke," Nathaniel said coolly. Apparently he'd read the papers. He didn't exactly move in front of Anders like Justice, but he kept a firm hand on his shoulder. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah, for you to get the hell out of my way so I can talk to my boyfriend."

"Hawke," Anders hissed through gritted teeth. "Just… let's not do this here." He was horribly aware once again of the press surrounding them.

"Why not?" Hawke asked, stepping forward.

Justice intercepted him, hand out but not quite touching his chest. "Excuse us, Mr. Hawke. We have things to attend to."

Hawke glared at him before looking to Anders. "We need to talk."

Anders looked at him, an ache in his chest. To anyone else, it might seem that Hawke was fine, simply annoyed or angry. But he saw the sadness in his eyes, the almost-but-not-quite desperation. 

_No. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself. He doesn't need you and you certainly don't need him._

His eyes slid to Bethany, who was looking hopefully at him. "I'll email you," he promised her.

She nodded, and Hawke allowed her to pull him back. Justice opened the car door and Anders slid into the passenger seat, Nathaniel behind him. Anders turned to address him.

"What are you doing in the Free Marches?"

Nathaniel shrugged, sitting back. "It's not every day an old school friend makes trial of the century."

Justice got in and started the car, careful not to run over any reporters as he pulled out. Anders turned around again and caught a glimpse of Hawke in the side mirror. He frowned and tried his best not to think about him as they drove away. He looked back to Nathaniel.

"This hit the papers in Ferelden?"

"All the way to Denerim. I didn't tell you, did I?" he added. "I'm an advisory board member to King Alistair. Of course, he's honestly just a figurehead but still, good man if a bit young for the position."

"That sounds like a prestigious career for you," Anders said. Nathaniel's name had been stained by the political scandal his father brought on years ago. It sounded like he was doing well for himself now. "Justice didn't tell me you were here." He glared good-naturedly at his brother.

"I'm here partly for you," Nathaniel said, "partly as a liaison. When the opportunity to act as a delegate came up, I applied right away. That was at the end of the summer. I didn't want to say anything lest I get passed over for the job. It's only a year contract after all. And then the news of your arrest hit the papers… What happened exactly?"

Anders took a breath, shrugging. "It's… really complicated."

"You used magic."

"To save a life," Anders said indignantly. "And if the laws weren't so bloody archaic, I never would've been arrested in the first place."

Justice made a quiet noise and Anders ignored him.

Nathaniel's lips quirked into a half-smile. "It's one of King Alistair's priorities for Ferelden, actually, to remove the ban on all magic. We're attempting to pass a law to make it legal for certain things."

This was the first Anders was hearing of it. "Really?" he asked hopefully.

Nathaniel nodded. "When the king's brother died… well, it was said that magic might have been able to save Cailan's life."

Anders gripped the back of the seat. "That would set precedence for the rest of Thedas." His heart sped up, a thrill of excitement coursing through his veins. "That's… that's fantastic. And you're a part of it?"

The smile broadened just a bit. "Yes. In fact, part of this assignment is to gather research in the Free Marches. Kirkwall, being the largest city, was the obvious choice."

"And it had nothing to do with the fact that I'm here," Anders joked. "Face it, you wanted to see me."

"My interest in your city is purely professional," Nathaniel said, and Anders laughed that he was able to keep a straight face.

They pulled up in front of Justice's house, a modest two-story with a backyard that was just a few streets over from Karl's old house. Anders both loved and hated it. There were too many memories of family get-togethers, barbeques and block parties. They still happened, of course. He simply chose not to be a part of them. Too many people offering him condolences for Karl's death. He got out, Justice popping the trunk to retrieve his backpack containing the few personal effects he'd had with him when he'd been arrested. Nathaniel took up his own suitcases and followed Anders inside.

Upon entering, Anders went immediately to the cat bed, scooping up Ser Pounce-a-lot who let out an indignant meow at being disturbed. "Ser Pounce!" he laughed, squeezing him. "Oh I've missed you, my little ball of irritation." He kissed him several times, causing Pounce to wriggle and look longingly at the floor.

Nathaniel chuckled. "Maker, he's gotten big," he commented, reaching up to stroke Pounce between the ears.

Anders let him go after a minute, laughing as he raced off up the stairs. "It feels so good to be out of there," he said finally, looking around. He tugged at the collar. Two weeks. He could handle it. "I'm starving. Justice?"

Justice was pulling out an array of takeout menus. "Pizza , burgers or other?"

"Maker's breath," Anders laughed, running a hand through his hair. "All of the above."

Now that he was out, the future didn't seem so bleak.


	13. Chapter 13

After dinner, Justice retreated upstairs to his office to do a few things for work, leaving Anders and Nathaniel on the couch to catch up. Anders talked about his work at the hospital and the clinic, recalling a few of the more interesting cases for him, while Nathaniel talked about the king's quirks – he was very particular about certain types of cheeses – and his administrative duties. Their conversation drifted back to school, primarily university where they both attended classes.

"What, ah… what happened to you and Velanna?" Anders asked carefully.

Nathaniel shook his head. "She left me almost a year ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Anders said, though he couldn't quite dredge up the sympathy.

"It's fine," Nathaniel said. "Better in the long run, really. She was very classy, but a bit…"

"Crazy?" Anders supplied.

Nathaniel shook his head. "High-maintenance. I find my bank account is happier for it."

"Ah." Anders had never really liked her, though he did feel bad for his friend. Breakups, regardless of the sanity level of either party, still hurt.

"So. You and Garrett Hawke?"

_Ah._ He'd wondered when it would come to this. He pulled his legs up underneath him, elbow resting on the back of the couch, fist propping up his head. "It's complicated."

"How does one even go about getting involved with someone like that? I mean to say… he called you his boyfriend."

Anders scowled. "I dumped him. Apparently he has trouble letting go."

And if that wasn't the understatement of the century, Anders wasn't sure what was. Nathaniel gestured a bit for him to go on.

"You really turned into a gossip, you know that?" Anders laughed lightly.

"Working in the capital," Nathaniel explained. "But I know when to stay quiet. So…"

Anders sighed, shifting to run his fingers through his hair, removing the tie and tossing it on the coffee table. Ser Pounce-a-lot came from out of nowhere, sniffed at it, grabbed it quickly in his mouth and ran off. Anders let him.

"I was working the clinic when he brought in a gunshot wound victim."

Nathaniel's eyebrows lifted. "It sounds like the beginning to a bad romance story, doesn't it?"

"It _was_ the beginning of a bad romance story," Anders said with a mirthless laugh. "I… I don't know. Things happened rather quickly. Then a friend of his bled all over my couch so he bought me a new one."

"Really?"

"It sounds ridiculous. Honestly, Nate, they were the most surreal weeks of my life." He still wasn't sure they weren't just a dream. But he had his memories. Hawke's obstinacy, his arrogance. His endearing need to make sure his family was taken care of… Anders shook his head. "I can't talk about why, but I can't go back to him."

Nathaniel nodded, and his hand dropped along the back of the couch, fingertips gently brushing Anders' elbow. "It's to do with the trial?"

"Partly," Anders said candidly. He didn't want Justice to overhear. As angry as Anders was with Hawke, he never wanted to hurt him. "Mostly it's because he's not the easiest man to get along with."

"That… sounds like there's more to the story," Nathaniel pressed. "Surely he had to have good qualities. Otherwise why would you stay with him?"

Anders laughed. "I stayed with you for almost a year, didn't I?"

Nathaniel made a mockingly hurt face. "I should be the one saying that."

"I was difficult, wasn't I?" Anders mused.

"On the contrary," Nathaniel said airily, "I found you irresistible."

Anders opened his mouth to speak, and stopped, words catching in his throat. Nathaniel, a sane voice of reason from his past. His first real friend he'd made in school. The first one he'd ever felt more than a passing affection for. Their breakup was never truly reconciled. They didn't actually end the relationship, it was ended for them. And when they had a chance later in life, well. Anders was head over heels in love with Karl, and Velanna was controlling every aspect of Nate's life. And now… Nathaniel was single. Anders was… well, single too. No matter what Hawke called him, Anders ended it that night in the police station.

"It's…" What, though? What was it? Not a good idea? He'd thrown himself at Nathaniel after Karl's death and was rejected. He didn't want to use Nathaniel as a rebound. He owed his friend more than that.

Nathaniel slid closer to him. "I still do."

"Oh."

Anders felt his chest constrict, stomach fluttering nervously. Nathaniel's fingertips were dragging slowly up his arm and back down, his other hand resting gently on his knee. Anders felt the heat through the fabric. Though it had been years and they'd grown up, grown apart, Nathaniel still smelled the same, like a Ferelden springtime, some floral scented soap he used. Anders closed his eyes, memories of teenaged fumblings in the locker room, stolen kisses under the bleachers came racing back. He opened his eyes when he felt a hand cupping his jaw.

"Nate," he whispered. "I… I don't know." Weeks of being locked up in the Gallows, being subjected to the worst of anything that could happen to mages, freedom was a breath of fresh air. He wanted this happen, he just wasn't sure he wanted it to happen with Nate.

"Are you in love with Hawke?"

Anders swallowed hard. He was. But he'd already thought about that. It didn't matter what he felt for Hawke. Hawke wasn't good for him. He wasn't stable. He was dangerous. Nate on the other hand… Nate was safe. He had a stable, legitimate job. He was well-adjusted and sane despite his father's shortcomings. Nate could make him happy.

"It doesn't matter," Anders whispered. "I just… you deserve better."

Nathaniel laughed and leaned in, breath warm against Anders' lips. "Do I?"

Anders' eyes fluttered closed as Nathaniel kissed him. It was different than he remembered. So often had he taken the lead, dragging them into a hidden alcove, initiating their make out sessions. But now Anders was content to be kissed, relaxing as he let his friend's tongue slide over his own. Nate pushed him back against the cushions and Anders went, a quiet gasp as a firm thigh slid between his legs. He tilted his head, groaning as Nathaniel pulled back, teeth raking along his lower lip, worrying it, sucking on it. They kissed again, still agonizingly slow, though far from dispassionate. Anders gripped his shoulder, the other sinking into the thick dark hair.

Nathaniel pulled back, trailing kisses along his jaw, nuzzling his stubble. Anders lifted his chin, letting him nip and suck at his neck, trying not to thrust his hips like a horny teenager needing to get off.

"I don't want-" Anders gasped, cutting off as Nathaniel bit his collar bone.

"Don't want what?" Nathaniel whispered against his skin, pressing more kisses as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"A rebound."

"We'll keep it casual," Nathaniel said, looking up. "Until we figure things out. Hm?"

Anders, breathing a bit heavily, looked at him. Casual. Sex without strings. He'd done it several times after Karl's death, but never with a friend and never with the same person twice. Could he do that? Sleep with Nathaniel? Or would it feel too much like he was using him to get over Hawke? Nathaniel didn't seem to care. But Anders did. And the injustice, the unfairness that he was still stuck on Hawke to the point where he couldn't even enjoy a casual tumble with an old friend?

"Hey," Nathaniel said, concern thick in his tone. "Anders, what is it?"

Anders quickly wiped his eyes at the tears forming there. "Maker," he whispered. "If you'd come back four or five months ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat."

Nate shifted, lying on his side, back pressed to the back of the couch, and Anders turned into his embrace, resting his forehead against his chest. "It's okay," Nathaniel assured him. "It's fine. It was just a suggestion, really. I'm here for whatever you need."

Anders let out a dry sob, chest hitching as his shoulders shook. He hadn't cried once the entire time he was in prison. Now, thinking about the other mages, the girl who'd been flogged, the others who were made to sit in the stocks while their fellows laughed and made fun. The templars stalking the halls, forcing themselves on the prisoners, taking advantage. Alain's scared expression, the tremble in his tone when he spoke of Karras.

"I just… I think I need to sleep," Anders said finally, wiping his eyes.

"Come on then," Nathaniel said. "Maybe a bath first? That tracker _is_ waterproof, right?"

The thought of slipping in a warm bath, to actually enjoy himself and relax for an hour without having someone shouting at him or staring at him while he showered in tepid water under a spray that was weak at best sounded heavenly.

"Yes, it is. I'd like that."

"I'll go run you one. Justice is letting me stay here until I find a place, so we'll be roommates for a bit."

Anders smiled and let Nate pull him up, accepting the hug and the kiss to his forehead, and watched him go. Ser Pounce-a-lot leapt lightly onto the couch and bashed his head against his hand. Anders petted him gently.

"Ah Pounce," he said quietly. "You're lucky you're a cat."

He stared at the blank TV for a minute, thinking about his uncertain future. Hawke had taken him apart thoroughly, pushed him past his comfort zone, and left him shaken and unsure. It would be so easy to return to that life, wouldn't it? Just as easy as it would be to turn to Nathaniel. It seemed that running to the next person to comfort him were the options he'd laid out before himself. But that wasn't acceptable. He needed to learn to stand on his own two feet.

After a good night's sleep in a soft bed, he would start sorting his affairs and figure out his next steps. Scooping Pounce up into his arms, he turned off the living room light and climbed the steps to a hot bath and hopefully a better morning.


	14. Chapter 14

Nathaniel Howe. Advisor to the king of Ferelden. Politician. Hawke hated him. He spent the afternoon and evening digging up information on the man, discovering all sorts of gossip. The most infuriating thing of all was that he'd had a fling with Anders when they were both in school. Did the man think he was going to insert himself back into Anders' life? Did he think that he could honestly replace Hawke? Hawke scowled, pouring himself another glass of scotch, the bottle of Laphroaig almost empty now. He could head downstairs and get another bottle of something else, but he'd been drinking a while and wasn't sure he could trust his legs to work properly.

"Bastard," he slurred.

Everything had been going so well for a long time, and then Anders had to come into his life. He was on top of his game, had the city eating out of the palm of his hand. He was still feared, still respected, but now his private life was on display. He clicked through the photos that made it to the evening papers, the gossip columns that speculated on his relationship with Anders. He was tempted to burn down the publication that called Anders his whore. Didn't they know how special Anders was? How good? The one thing in his life that had seemed so amazing and perfect.

Maker, he was drunk. He was starting to sound like his mother's soap operas, Orlesian daytime television where the man confessed his undying love to the woman through his tears. Or the romantic comedies where if the main characters just bloody _talked_ instead of making assumptions, eighty-five minutes of the film could've been cut. He picked up his phone, turning it around his hand and swiped to unlock it. Aveline had texted the information he wanted, thanking him sarcastically for the unwanted transfer. As if it was his fault she screwed up. He deleted it. It was just confirmation of what he already knew.

But he didn't know why. Why did Meredith want dirt on him? To get him thrown in prison? Hell, he was the reason the crime rate in the city was so bloody low. Any two-bit thug wanting a foothold in Kirkwall had to go through him first. No one moved money or product without his say so. As far as he knew, Meredith hadn't cared about that. Her priority had always been her men, assigning them to whatever war Orlais wanted to start next, or hunting mages that had used magic and were trying to elude capture. It had nothing to do with him. So why was she pursuing him?

He scrolled through his contacts list, stopping on Anders' name, frowning at it. Bethany must've gotten a hold of his phone because there was a small heart next to it and he certainly hadn't added that. He wasn't in the habit of adding emoticons to his contacts, and was tempted to go wake her up to yell at her for touching his phone. She'd also been the one to convince him to go to the trial, even though Anders had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him. But Hawke had a hard time letting go, and Bethany was friends with him, so he thought maybe she knew what she was talking about. And when he'd had a chance to finally talk to him?

Nathaniel Howe. 

Hawke frowned, wondering how easy it would be to make the man disappear. Fereldans in Kirkwall went missing all the time and no one really batted an eye. Everyone knew it was a dangerous city. But he was an ambassador, here on a job officially sanctioned by the king. And Anders wouldn't thank him for it. Hawke didn't want to be responsible for killing yet another of Anders' lovers. He scowled and clicked a link in his email. Varric sent him a file regarding Keran and Wilmod. Both recruits, both under Karras's wing. Neither had any marks against them, but that didn't mean they didn't follow in Karras's footsteps, just that they hadn't gotten caught. He notated their addresses. If nothing else, he would pay Keran a visit to remind him what happened to people who didn't listen to him.

His glass was empty again and only the dregs were left in the bottle. He tipped it back, tongue flicking inside the neck, then dropped it in the wastebasket next to the desk. He'd have to have Sebastian send down another bottle before Christmas. Getting blind drunk seemed to be a perfect solution to his problems. And what was worse now was that no one was even trying to kill him. He should've been happy. After all, Anders leaving him was a blessing in disguise. He wouldn't have to put up with his stubborn… stubbornness.

He was definitely drunk. And tapping the speed dial. There was no little voice to tell him this was a bad idea as he brought his phone to his ear.

"You've reached Anders, leave a message."

"Hey!" Hawke managed. "Hey, you. You should… not screen calls. Cause it's me. Hawke. Garrett. You never really use my first name. Once. When I was sucking your prick. Remember that? We did that. And you were good on mine… on me. Anders. I'm drunk. Call me."

He hung up and looked at the phone. The time displayed was three in the morning. Anders should still be awake. He worked overnights. Hawke scowled and dialed again. The phone clicked mid-ring.

"He doesn't want to talk to you."

"Who is this? Justice, is it you, you piece of shit?" Hawke slurred. "Listen, put Anders on the phone so I can talk to him."

"No."

"Wait, I know… Nath… nee-el," Hawke tried. "His ex-boyfriend. Put Anders on."

"Listen-"

"No! You listen to me!" Hawke said, standing, swaying a bit. "I am… Garrett… Hawke. And you are just a pisshant politishen. So put Anders on."

There was a quiet sigh, then silence, then a rustling.

"Hawke."

"Anders!"

"Hawke, listen to me."

"Okay," Hawke agreed, because it was Anders.

"You're very drunk, and I am very tired. If you hang up right now and go to bed, I'll consider talking to you in the morning when you're sober."

"You'll talk to Bethany but not me," Hawke said, and part of him was vaguely aware how pouty he sounded.

A pause. "Bethany didn't break my heart."

"Oh." Hawke frowned. "Did I?"

"Yes, Hawke."

"Didn't mean to."

"That doesn't mean it didn't hurt. So you'll go to bed?"

Hawke shrugged as if Anders could see him. "I'm out of scotch anyway."

"Good," Anders said, sighing. "Go get some water and aspirin and-"

"Call you in the morning! Because you're a doctor." He thought he heard Anders laugh. "Did you laugh?"

"Go to sleep, Hawke."

Hawke couldn't stop his inebriated brain, the next sentence tumbling out before he could stop. "I love you."

A very long, very tense pause. "I know, Hawke," Anders whispered. "Go to sleep," he repeated.

"Okay."

The line disconnected. Hawke dropped the phone on his desk and ran a hand over his face. Maker, he hadn't gotten this drunk in a long time. And it was Anders' fault. He had half a mind to call him back and yell at him. But he wouldn't. Anders said if he went to sleep, they would talk in the morning. And since when did Anders call the shots in the relationship? But Hawke was determined to have a conversation with him. If this was the only way, he would take it. So he stumbled to the bathroom to down some water and take some aspirin before dropping to bed, fully clothed.


	15. Chapter 15

Anders felt Nate's hand on his back, warm and comforting. And it was, but he was too upset to allow himself to be fully comforted. He'd said good-bye to Justice who left for work and sat down to deal with his mail. Bills were set aside for now, he shredded the requests for interviews, and managed a quick reply to Bethany's email asking for a possible get together just the two of them, she promised. He gave her Justice's address, though he was sure Hawke knew it anyway, and how disconcerting was that?

But it wasn't even Hawke that was making him so upset. He sat at the kitchen table, laptop in front of him, staring at the official email from Director Petrice. The one that started, 'We regret to inform you,' which Anders thought was perhaps the biggest lie he'd ever read. She was probably over the moon with glee about the decision that was made. His 'continuing services' were no longer necessary at St. Elthina's. He was fired, officially. There was no law that said they were obligated to keep him there, that they had to hold a spot for him during his incarceration. But it was still an example of anti-mage bias dominating professional workplaces.

"Maybe I could flip burgers," Anders muttered, shoving the laptop away and resting his head in his arms on the tabletop.

Nathaniel crouched down, hand still rubbing his back slowly. "You're still a licensed doctor. They can't take that away from you. Just apply to another hospital. There's more than one in the city."

It was true, and they were likely better to suit Anders. Working the Accident and Emergency department in a Lowtown dump was less prestigious than anything St. Elthina's had to offer, but he could handle that. He might even be more appreciated in the long run. And less administrative duties. It wasn't a horrible thought. But would he be able to even get a job there? Petrice wouldn't write him a reference. He hadn't dusted his resume off in years either, so that would need an overhaul.

"Or," Nathaniel said, "you find something tide you over in the meantime and when my year here is up, I take you back to Denerim with me and you work medical there."

Anders turned, cheek resting now on his arms. "I can't."

"Why not?" Nathaniel asked, reaching up to brush back his hair.

"There's… my brother's here. And…" _Karl_ was what he wanted to say, but Hawke entered his thoughts as well. "Karl," he said determinedly.

"It's a short plane ride," Nathaniel said gently. "You could live with me until you're on your feet."

Anders sighed and sat up, and Nathaniel moved to the chair next to him. "I appreciate it. Don't think I don't. There's no way I could afford a move. I'm not even sure I have the clinic job still." He didn't think Selby would let him go, but who knew? Frowning, he pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text inquiring as to the status of his employment. She would need to file paperwork with the courthouse, but he had a right-to-work permit already in hand thanks to Zevran.

His phone buzzed almost instantly and he read the text, smiling a little.

"Good news?" Nathaniel asked.

Anders let out a small laugh, rubbing his scruffy cheek a little. "Yes. She's… well." He handed him the phone.

Nathaniel read. "'If you're not on shift tomorrow night, I will kick your ass all the way back to the Gallows.' Charming woman."

"She is that," Anders said, and made to take the phone back, but it rang.

Nathaniel looked at the contact and, face impassive, answered it. "Are you sober this morning, Mr. Hawke?"

Anders felt a cold apprehension in his stomach. "Give me the phone."

"Yes, he's here."

"Nathaniel!"

"Very well," Nathaniel said, and handed it to him. "He has quite the vocabulary."

Anders gave him a look before taking the phone and standing. "Hawke?"

"Why is that asshole answering your phone still?"

He didn't mean to smile. He should've felt indignant that Hawke was calling a friend of his names. "It was closer to him. And don't call him that." He moved into the living room, aware that Nathaniel was standing in the doorway now, arms crossed. "You called me last night."

"About that. I was drunk."

Anders snorted. "No shit, Hawke. You were pretty bad." He sank down onto the couch and pulled a knee up to his chest. "What possessed you get to blind drunk in the first place?" As if Anders couldn't figure it out. A part of him realized he just wanted to make Hawke say it. He could almost hear the other man scowling.

"Look… it wasn't a big deal. I'm sorry I called you. I just thought…"

"Just thought what? That you could do everything you did, that you could _lie_ to me and as long as you hired a lawyer to get me out of prison, it would all somehow be okay? You're pretty childish Hawke, but this is a new low for you."

"I didn't… I didn't lie."

Anders glanced at Nathaniel, who was still standing in the doorway, then turned around. "Omission of truth. It's the same thing. You… you KNEW about it. You had something to do with it and…"

"Is your asshole friend hovering?"

"Don't call him that. And yes."

"Yes what?" Nathaniel asked, and Anders waved him away, annoyed. 

With a sigh, Nathaniel retreated to the other room.

Anders lowered his voice. "You were involved with his death and you knew it, and you didn't even think to tell me, did you? You didn't think that I deserved to know that I was sleeping with someone who was responsible for my former lover's murder."

"It… it crossed my mind."

"It crossed your-" Anders let out a breath. "See, this is the childish arrogance I'm talking about. You can't just decide something like that and then expect to make it all better by… by… by buying me a freaking couch!"

"…I didn't-"

"It's an ANALOGY!" Anders said exasperatedly. "You can't keep throwing money at things or showering me with gifts and expect me to forgive you for something like this. Hawke, I was-" He glanced at the doorway which was empty now, but lowered his voice once again. "I was kidnapped. I was tied up in an abandoned building." He was speaking in barely a whisper now. "I watched you kill someone. Do you even know what that feels like to me?"

A pause, silence that made Anders think Hawke was considering it. "Maybe if you told me."

"It was horrible. It's exactly the opposite of what I do, Hawke. I'm a doctor. I try to save and improve lives, not end them." He needed Hawke to understand this. That it wasn't just about Karl or a couch or even the danger to his own life.

"Meeran had it coming to him."

"No! Hawke, no. It doesn't matter what someone does, they don't deserve that." He was beyond exasperated. Hawke would never understand.

"I… I found Keran. The kid that shot Karl."

Anders stopped, feeling an icy chill wash over him. "You didn't…"

"No. I figured if you wanted to, you could… I could… if you…" Hawke was tongue-tied and he often wasn't. "I could if you wanted me to. I could bring him to you. Tonight."

Anders' mind raced. _The kid._ This _kid_ that shot Karl. A kid. Someone young, swept up in the life that Hawke provided. Someone who probably was doing it for money. Who needed to eat, to pay rent, to pay bills. And he made a mistake. A mistake that took away the love of his life and changed his life forever. He was shaking slightly. Did he want revenge? A part of him screamed yes while the other called him a hypocrite. It was much more difficult when it was personal.

"Anders?"

"Yes," he found himself saying. "What time?"

"Whenever your brother's not there. I don't need him in my business."

Anders swallowed, nervous. "I'll arrange it so the house is empty." Maker, what was he doing? Confronting Karl's killer? "Nine o'clock."

"I'll be at the back door with him."

"All right." His voice didn't sound like his own. It was hollow and distant. But the decision was made. He could take it back, but did he want to? "Hawke."

"Yes?"

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

"…I know. I… I love you."

"I know you do," Anders whispered. He wanted to say it back. He still did love him, but it was more complicated than that. But he also knew those words weren't easy for someone like Hawke to say. The first had been a text message, the second had been, Anders believed, a guilty jab. And third, he was completely drunk. And now? He was sober. And apologetic. Maybe he understood after all. "I'll see you tonight."

He hung up without waiting for a reply and tossed the phone on the coffee table. A few minutes later Nathaniel came in with two cups of coffee and sat with him. He didn't speak, and Anders simply leaned against him. He would convince Nathaniel to take Justice out, that he needed some space, some time alone to think, to work on his resume among other things. And he would confront Karl's killer. He had a few hours to figure out what he was going to say, what he was going to do. But for now, he thought, as he turned on the television, he just wanted to forget about the world for a few hours.


	16. Chapter 16

Though he hated to lie to Nathaniel and Justice, Anders realized the necessity of getting them out of the house before Hawke arrived with Keran. Justice, at least, seemed oblivious and bought into the lie that Anders just wanted to be alone. But the knowing look on Nathaniel's face and Anders realized he was going to owe him at least a small explanation as to why he was condemning him with a night out with Justice. He promised himself he'd tell Nathaniel something. Maybe not the entire truth, but some of it. He'd tell him he wanted to meet with Hawke. That would at least explain why Justice needed to be out of the house. He would be livid to learn that Hawke came by. Not that Anders was planning on letting either Hawke or Keran into the house. He owed that to Justice not to let Hawke invade his privacy.

So he shivered, pulling the thick woolen coat around himself a bit tighter. It had been a present from Justice a few winters ago when his old one fell apart from use. His old was green and grey and had definitely seen better days by the time it was replaced. This one was black with accents of gold and wasn't something he'd ever buy for himself. Too lavish, not necessary. Even in chilly Kirkwall. Had he lived in Ferelden, he might have indulged. But he was grateful for it. The pockets were huge and it was warmer than it looked.

Justice's backyard was somewhat small. Large enough to have a proper picnic or barbeque which they'd done, usually with a few others from the neighborhood. Most of their friends had been Karl's friends, neither he nor Justice very good at making them. Anders simply because he was a bit shy or awkward and Justice because he was… well. Justice. Justice didn't care what anyone thought of him, and his range of hobbies was extremely narrow. He was his job. And Anders wondered about Joy, his almost-fiancée. Marriage had apparently been spoken about, but Justice hadn't yet bought a ring. Anders entertained the notion that Justice was probably the type to ask her father for her hand. Such an archaic, patriarchal custom. But Joy would probably find it endearing. She was good for him.

Anders crunched down on the dried leaves that littered the grass. He thought about the Gallows, the inmates walking around the stone courtyard. Though by now it would be past dinner and close to lights out. He thought about Alain and wondered if he was okay. He'd have to write him a letter, maybe see if he could go back for visiting day, despite the house arrest. The thought of returning to the Gallows was daunting, but he would at least be seeing it from the other side. And Alain deserved someone to look after him.

He walked back to the patio, a concrete slab with a grill, table and chairs. He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and sat on the glass table, feet on a chair, knees jiggling while he waited. A chilly breeze blew over the yard, rustling the leaves, and Anders decided he'd rake tomorrow. Justice wouldn't care if he continued to freeload, but Anders did feel a little guilty taking so much from him. It felt like Justice had been taking care of him at least partly for a long time now, especially since Karl's death. He loved his brother, and he'd deal with the two months of house arrest until he could find a place, but Justice could be a bit… smothering.

_And now you're with someone like Hawke who acts almost exactly like him. Though they'll never admit it._

He smirked a bit at the thought, but it faded when the side gate creaked and the man in question came around. His heart beat wildly in his chest and it seemed like the temperature dropped another ten degrees. Hawke looked the same as he had the other day, though it still made Anders ache to see him. Next to Hawke, walking slightly in front, must have been Keran. He looked… young. Blond hair that was cut in the same fashion most early twenty-something kids seemed to like it, a bit of a beaky nose, but otherwise he was your average every day kid.

Hawke stopped a few feet in front of Anders, just on the edge of the concrete patio slab. He put a hand on Keran's shoulder to stop him, and Anders watched as Keran's eyes widened slightly out of fear. They didn't speak for a minute, and Anders finally got off the table, though he didn't approach.

"Hawke," he acknowledged.

Hawke offered a tight-lipped smile hidden almost entirely by his beard. "Anders, this is Keran. He worked for me. I never expected to see him back in the Free Marches. Keran. Why don't you tell Anders what you do now?"

"I-" Keran squeaked, and Hawke shoved him a bit. "I… I'm a templar." He swallowed. "A Gallows templar recruit."

Anders narrowed his eyes. Though he didn't want to admit to a bias against templars, nothing good had ever come from the order. "I didn't see you when I was there."

"No, serah," Keran said nervously. "I… I didn't deal with the inmates directly."

"Hmph." Anders withdrew his hands from his pockets, and a part of him enjoyed the flinch on Keran's face. He folded his arms and looked down a moment, thinking, before looking back up. "About the man you killed. No doubt Hawke's told you the reason you're here to see me."

Keran nodded. "I… yes, I know. He was innocent. Not Greagoir, Ka-"

Hawke smacked him across the back of the head. "Say his name and you'll get worse."

Keran cringed, trying to shrink away from Hawke, and looked back to Anders. "I…"

"I don't want an apology," Anders said quietly, feeling sick now. The kid was all but peeing his pants. This was the true power of Garrett Hawke, he thought. Not the respect, but the fear. Not his money, his fancy cars and expensive things. "I want you to understand that you took something that can never be replaced. Life is not cheap. It's fragile and fleeting and you took…" He drew in a breath of chilly air, trying to calm himself. He wouldn't cry. "You took something from me that was so… very precious." Despite himself, he felt tears in his eyes. "Do you know what that means?"

Keran shifted uncomfortably and looked down. He didn't answer, and Anders was somewhat grateful for that. He looked at Hawke, and was shocked. Hawke looked… cowed almost. Regretful. The flash of emotion was gone in an instant and Anders took another breath. Hawke frowned.

"What do you want me to do with him?" Hawke asked quietly.

Anders felt a horrible twisting in his gut, and almost regretted the sick feeling of glee as Keran's eyes widened again in fear. He held this kid's life in his hands. It was empowering and terrifying, like having someone open on his table, someone whose life hung in the balance and only he could save them. He thought, maybe, he understood in that moment why Hawke continued to do what he did. But it wasn't the same thing, right?

Right?

Anders frowned. "The templars are a corrupt order. At least in your… business, you seem to have morals. I'm guessing there's no place for Keran anywhere anymore."

Hawke shook his head.

"I thought not." He let out a breath. Killing Keran wasn't an option, not at all. But turning him in? Making him pay for his crime? There was no statute of limitation on murder. He could call his brother right now, have Keran confess.

But what about Hawke? He spared another glance at him, and Hawke was waiting patiently for the decision. Keran might tell Meredith of Hawke's involvement. And as much as Anders wanted to hate both of them for what happened to Karl, he couldn't. So he did the only thing he could.

"Let him go."

Keran heaved a sigh of relief.

"But," Anders added. "If you so much as touch a mage… If you hurt anyone else…" He stepped forward, pleased when Keran stepped back, tripping off the patio. "Then I won't hesitate to cash in a favor from Hawke. Do you understand?" He wouldn't. It was a bluff. But Keran didn't need to know that.

Keran nodded quickly. "Yes, serah! I swear. I won't ever."

Anders looked at Hawke. "We're done here."

Hawke gestured at Keran. "Go wait in the car. I'll take you home."

Keran gave one last look at Anders before turning and practically fleeing the yard. And then it was just Anders and Hawke, and Anders could practically feel the air crackling with energy between them. Hawke shifted awkwardly, not looking at him, and Anders took pity.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"Sure." Silence for a moment, just the wind rustling the leaves. "Anders…"

"Hawke, I'm tired."

"Can I call you later?"

"I suppose." A part of him didn't mind. And there was nothing wrong with talking, was there? Anders didn't know. Nothing with Hawke was simple.

"I have a dinner tomorrow with the viscount. Something about elections. He wants my support."

Anders snorted. "Aren't you just the influential little mobster?" But there was no rancor in his tone. If anything, he was… proud. Hawke getting involved in politics seemed awkward, but it meant he cared.

"I know his son's pro-mage. And pro-magic," Hawke added, as if he wanted to prove to Anders that he knew there was a difference and supported both. "There's talk of him taking over sooner than later."

"Maybe if you have the viscount sleep with the fishes it'll happen sooner than later," Anders said offhandedly, and actually laughed when Hawke looked at him, surprised. "Joke's in bad taste, I suppose. I just… Hawke."

Hawke frowned, running a hand back through his hair. "Yeah. I know. Anders, listen…"

He didn't want to. He wanted to run back inside and hide under the covers. But he nodded for Hawke to continue.

"My life… you kind of messed it up-"

Anders laughed bitterly.

"Hear me out. You messed it up but in the best way possible. If that makes sense. And now you're gone, it's sort of like… I don't know which way is up."

Anders had to look away from the intense gaze. Neither said anything, unmoving for so long that the motion detector light flicked off, leaving them in the dim light of the kitchen through the sliding glass doors. When he spoke, it was quiet, almost a whisper.

"I know. I feel it too."

Another stretch of silence. One of them shifted and the light came back on. Hawke cleared his throat.

"I'll call you after the dinner tomorrow. It might be late."

Anders nodded. "I'll be awake. I have a clinic shift." He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to tell Hawke that, but he had impulsively, perhaps hoping Hawke would come see him. He wouldn't ask, though. Couldn't.

"Oh that's… Good. I'm glad you're still working there. You're the best thing that shi- um. Place has."

Anders shook his head with a light laugh. "Good night, Hawke."

Hawke made a move as if he was going to step forward and hug or maybe even kiss him. He didn't. "Good night, Anders," he said, and after a moment's pause, turned and left.

Anders waited, arms wrapped around himself now, and listened as a car started and drove away. He watched the headlights move down the street. Nathaniel and Justice would be back soon. Before the motion detector light could kick off again, he let himself back into the kitchen, drawing the blinds before moving to the living room to curl up on the couch and wait, and think.


	17. Chapter 17

Hawke was greeted by the butler and stepped into the grand hall of the viscount's estate. It was easily the most disgustingly opulent building in Kirkwall, and any normal person would've been immediately impressed by the double curved staircases, the enormous chandelier and the thick Orlesian rug. Hawke knew he could buy the viscount twice over if he wanted to, and wasn't impressed by the display of wealth. Nor did he think that the viscount was particularly feared or respected. If Hawke wanted the job, he could take it easily from him, or put someone else in that he wanted. But then, that's why Dumar likely invited him. Keep your friends close, et cetera.

A young man dressed in a light blue button down shirt and black vest, matching black slacks and a hairstyle that Hawke thought just a little too liberal for their conservative family, stepped downstairs.

"Serah Hawke!" Saemus Dumar smiled broadly, skipping down the last two steps and crossed the foyer to shake his hand enthusiastically. "It's so good to see you."

Hawke offered a terse smile. Saemus had grown several inches since last he saw him, a quivering wreck of a teenager, tied to a chair and gagged with blood running down his face. If one looked close enough, the scar on his temple was still visible. But they never really talked about that night, how Hawke saved his life. The viscount had been more than grateful and kept his son very close after that, much to Saemus's chagrin. Saemus kept up brief correspondence with Hawke, emailing a few times a month to discuss this charity or that one. Hawke threw money where he was told to in order to keep in the Dumars' good graces, and they continued to perform little favors where necessary for him.

"Likewise," Hawke said, because it was expected. He rarely did the politician's dance. His mother or sister would handle that. But Bethany was curled up at home, probably on the phone with Sebastian, and his mother was in Orlais enjoying the finest of everything he could afford. Besides, it wasn't as if this was a large social dinner, just the three of them.

Saemus led him through to a parlor and gestured to a sofa. Hawke sat, crossing an ankle over his knee and accepted the snifter of brandy. He could pretend to be high class, but he was his father's son. The pretense of it all unnerved him a bit. Saemus, thankfully, wasn't nearly as conservative or entrenched in double-speak as his father was. Despite his age and his quirks, Hawke didn't mind the kid so much. Then again, he supposed if you saved someone from certain death, you had to have at least a passing fondness in the bonding after.

Saemus poured himself a glass and sat in a tall winged back leather armchair that seemed to dwarf him. "So you're all over the papers lately."

_Oh good, we're doing this,_ he thought sarcastically, and sipped the brandy. "Of course I can't talk about it. My lawyer's advised me to keep it discreet."

Saemus held up a hand, making a bit of a face. "No worries. But you must know the gossip."

"Gossip?"

"Your… boyfriend, the mage? How they're saying he blew up half the Gallows as a parting gift." Saemus's bright blue eyes shone in the firelight and he licked his lips, somewhat excitedly. "Now I know there's nothing to the rumor…"

Hawke laughed. The thought of Anders blowing anything up, or hurting anyone, it was… it was ridiculous. Even face to face with his lover's killer, he still showed that compassion. Of course, it wasn't Hawke's prerogative to be good, and Keran was lying in a shallow grave off the side of the Imperial now. But that death wouldn't be on Anders' head, and Hawke had promised Keran that if he'd come back, he'd end up dead. A promise was a promise after all.

"Is it true he saved your brother's life?" Saemus asked, swirling his snifter.

"He did. Carver was trying to be the hero and ended up getting himself stabbed. He was lucky Anders was there."

"It's such a shame that mages are persecuted for things other people would be lauded as heroes for."

It was a different voice, but the words might as well have been Anders'. Hawke wondered if there was anything to it. He thought about mages only so far as Merrill and Bethany and keeping them safe and what they could do for him in terms of business. He didn't think it was right to lock up mages for simply using magic, and Varric had pulled quite a bit of information on Alain's case. The kid's father was a real piece of work and it sounded like he got what he deserved. But appeal after appeal had been denied because it was blood magic. If Alain had shot his dad or stabbed him or even knocked him dead with a punch, it might have been a different story. But it wasn't really until Anders that Hawke started thinking a bit more deeply about mages and mage rights.

_Because you're an idiot and you're in love and you'd swim the Waking Sea if he asked you to._

"What are your views on it, Saemus?" Hawke asked. "Mage rights."

"I think magic is a useful tool," he said, leaning on the arm of the chair, sipping his brandy. "There's no magic in our line, but if you have it, why not put it to the best use that you possibly can? The religious doctrines are overrated and honestly it's only old world bias and sheer laziness that we still have these antiquated laws. I guarantee you that if you ask any of the citizens why magic use is still forbidden, the best argument they'll have is, 'That's how it's always been,' or some similar nonsense. Did you know they're already trying to pass laws in Ferelden to make magic use legal?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh?"

"Wouldn't it just be embarrassing if the Free Marches was left behind as the rest of Thedas moves forward? And if a backwater country like Ferel-" He stopped, frowning, perhaps remembering that Hawke was from Ferelden.

Had Hawke not been so preoccupied with his thoughts, he might have spared an irritation for the slight on his home country. "Kirkwall must remain fashionable, after all," he said distractedly.

Saemus let out a relieved breath. "Quite," he said, smiling. "We're meeting with a delegate next week, an ambassador who works with the king."

That sounded familiar. "…Who?"

"A Nathaniel Howe? He was subject to some scandal fifteen years ago. Mostly his father's dealings. Bad business. But he seems reputable."

Hawke bit back the sarcasm about Saemus still being in short pants fifteen years ago. He was barely old enough to drink. Still, he had matured somewhat, and from what it sounded, could be a potential ally if Hawke wanted to make any changes in the laws. But why would he want to do that? What would it benefit him? It wasn't as if the templars were knocking down his doors to get at Merrill and Bethany. Any magic he'd want Merrill to use in public would be destructive and certainly against any normal law. He was pretty sure arson and exploding people from the inside out were two very illegal activities, no matter the status of any anti-magic laws.

_Because you want it for him._

He sipped his brandy, wishing the voice in his head would shut up.

"I know him," Hawke said finally. "Howe. We've met."

Saemus nodded knowingly. "It seems you two might have a bit of a love triangle going on."

Hawke scowled briefly before hiding it with another sip. Saemus knew too much gossip for his own good. "It's not like that at all."

"Of course. Regardless, I'm sure you and your… er… lover," he said searching for the right word, "will reconcile soon."

Hawke was interrupted for a response when the butler came to collect them, letting them know that the viscount was free now and dinner would commence shortly. Thanking the Maker for small favors, Hawke set his glass aside and followed them out into the dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question, dear lovely readers. And a bit of a poll, if you don't mind weighing in. I have quite a bit of author's notes for this particular fic. Mostly it's just my own odd ramblings and plot notes and whatnot. Personally I love seeing an author's insight to their work and spend a lot of time listening to director/production commentary on movies. So my question is would you like to see my notes for this series once it's all finished? If yes, I will post them after the epilogue.
> 
> If you'd rather not, obviously you don't have to read them, and you can ignore that bit of self-indulgence, but if anyone would like to, just let me know and I'll put them after this is all up. Otherwise they shall remain in my folder, with no hard feelings of course. <3


	18. Chapter 18

_Maker,_ Hawke thought, _does this man ever shut up?_

He caught Saemus's eye from across the table, smirking a bit when the boy winked at him. At least Hawke wasn't alone as Dumar droned on and again about budgets and meetings and the troubles he was experiencing, the pushbacks he was getting from certain interest groups. It bored Hawke to tears, and the only reason he wasn't walking out was because he still needed Dumar in his pocket.

"My son, oh, he's gaining in popularity, but no one wants someone Saemus's age to run the country."

Saemus laughed and continued to daintily cut his beef. "That's because, father, this country is full of people like you."

Dumar's lips tightened into a frown.

_Oh good, I was wondering when we were going to get the awkward family disdain for one another._ Hawke gestured to the wine pourer person. _Sommelier,_ some long, almost forgotten etiquette lesson provided. He supposed those trainings his mother insisted on were good for some things. At least his glass was full again.

"Regardless," Dumar said, "I still believe I'm the best person for the position. All this ruckus over 'new blood'." He scoffed.

Hawke frowned. "Wait, I thought you were going unopposed again this year."

Though things largely remained unchanged in Kirkwall over the years, Dumar's approval rating was still fairly high. At least, that's what Hawke believed. This was the first he was hearing about anything other than the usual bitching that Dumar was too old or too old-fashioned to keep with the times. 

"If only that were so," Dumar said, sighing.

Hawke glanced at Saemus, who took a sip of his wine before speaking.

"A templar," he said, his face scrunching up in distaste. "Otto Alrik. He has the backing of his commander of course, and quite a few figureheads in the medical community. Have… you heard of him?" Saemus asked warily.

Hawke only realized belatedly that he was gripping his knife so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He set it down carefully, no longer interested in the meal, and cleared his throat. "Yes. I've… heard of him. He works at St. Elthina's." His voice was quiet, dangerous. 

Dumar gave a questioning look. "So you know his politics then?" he asked carefully.

Saemus leaned forward, a slight crease between his brows as he frowned.

"I know he hates mages," Hawke said carefully, a tight-lipped smile now firmly in place. "And he's rather close to the hospital director." And now it sounded like he was possibly in Meredith's pocket as well.

Hawke wanted to tell them more, give them the information he had about Alrik, but he couldn't do that without revealing how he knew. And he wasn't going to betray Anders' trust. If Meredith was trying to replace Dumar though, it would make sense why she was wanted him out of the picture. It was a poorly kept secret that Dumar was in Hawke's pocket, and Hawke was the main reason the fool was still the viscount.

"He's influential in a certain circle," Saemus said. "Those that are entrenched in old world politics, who would see another Exalted March come to Thedas to rid us of the perceived threat of mage takeover."

Dumar frowned. "Now, Saemus-"

"With absolutely no offense, Father," Saemus said in a tone that Hawke realized meant Saemus didn't care if he offended or not, "moving backward is not the way to move forward. Mage rights have come far, but not far enough. Alrik will win the conservative vote. What we need to do is rally the younger crowd, the ones that will vote if they know the laws will change."

"And chance losing the supporters I _do_ have," Dumar replied lightly. "Those who will support me because I'm the incumbent and-"

"Haven't changed your policies since sliced bread became popular," Saemus finished somewhat acidly.

Hawke prayed silently to the Maker. His own family dinners were always… difficult. They always had been, even when his father was alive. But it had never been like this. More often someone would throw an insult, then a dinner roll, then a fork. But this was ridiculous, and that they were dragging him into their pissing contest…

Dumar turned to address Hawke. "Regardless of the platform, the office of the viscount needs to know it has you standing behind it. Otherwise I fear we have no hope."

Keeping Dumar in his pocket was easier than trying to persuade Alrik to his side. Not to mention his own personal vendetta against the man. He hadn't quite yet decided what he wanted to do to Alrik to make him pay for hurting Anders, but Hawke knew there would be vengeance. Even if Anders had wished for his death in a moment of heated anger, Hawke would do that for him. Of course now that Alrik was seemingly stepping forward into the limelight, it would make killing him discreetly all the more difficult.

"I don't think it should be 'regardless of the platform'," Saemus was saying. "I believe now is the best time to switch our platform and go forward with the new campaign of pushing mage rights. You're meeting with the Fereldan delegate next week. Perhaps he has some ideas-"

"And be seen as weak," Dumar scoffed. "Taking advice from a Fereldan delegate – with no offense to you, Serah Hawke – is tantamount to declaring the viscount's seat open for Fereldan occupation."

Hawke was somewhat used to this. The bias that all Free Marchers seemed to have against Ferelden. They mocked the country's lack of independence until somewhat recently, forgetting that Orlais once owned half the world. And before that, it had been under the Imperium's rule. Regardless though, Ferelden was a powerhouse in the south, and the country's production of wheat and access to the Kocari oilfields made it an imperative ally. Hawke hated thinking about his country that way, but it was better to be realistic in these situations. 

Saemus scoffed. "The king of Ferelden wants nothing more than to see his people fed and happy. He'd sooner close his borders to immigration than go marching into another territory."

Dumar gave Hawke a look that clearly said, 'Children, right?' and smiled a little. Hawke raised his eyebrows with a bit of a nod before sipping his wine. He was closer in age to Saemus than his father, and Dumar did seem a little out of touch with the younger generation. The older voting demographic wasn't getting any younger, and they weren't likely to change their opinions. The laws would only change if the people wanted it. And from what it sounded like, the pro-magic group was getting louder.

"Well, again," Dumar said, "we'll only be able to secure a position with Serah Hawke's backing."

_A Ferelden dog-lord like me backing a Kirkwaller blue blood like you._ That, Hawke thought, was the true measure of his influence and power.

"Whatever the viscount's office needs," Hawke said, raising his glass a little. "Oh, but I should get going. It's late."

"Of course," Dumar said, half-standing as Hawke got up. "We'll hammer out the details later."

Hawke shook his hand. "Saemus, care to walk me out?"

Saemus wiped his mouth on his napkin and took a last sip of his wine before following him to the foyer. Hawke accepted his jacket from the butler and smirked as Saemus pulled on his own, a dark blue woolen coat with white thread. He hadn't even asked Saemus to walk with him and the kid was anticipating it. He picked up on the subtle cues that his father seemed to miss, and Hawke thought perhaps he'd misjudged him. Or that his first impression of him as a weak, spoiled Daddy's boy was far from the mark. Or maybe Saemus just understood his father's inadequacies better than anyone. Whatever it was, Hawke found himself walking the gravel driveway that wound around the estate with Saemus.

"I'm hoping I can expect full discretion with this conversation," Saemus began.

_Depends on what it is,_ Hawke thought. "Of course," was what he said.

"It seems you're aware of my father's growing senility."

Hawke thought that was putting it nicely. "Mm."

"He needs to be replaced."

Hawke blinked, a bit startled, though he didn't show it nor did he slow in his steps. "You're not suggesting I put my lot in with Alrik."

"Oh Maker, no," Saemus said. "I've… hm." He looked around, making sure they were alone.

Along the side of the estate there were security cameras, but Hawke knew they didn't have audio. Merrill told him as much when she broke into the system months ago. The grounds were dark and quiet aside from the usual nighttime noise of bugs and the rustling of the wind. Saemus slid his hands into his coat pocket, shoulders slightly hunched.

"Then what?" Hawke prompted.

"In the event of my father's death, I become the de facto viscount."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening." If Saemus was suggesting…

Saemus lowered his voice. "I've been in contact with the leader of the Qunari-"

"Stop."

Hawke would have been amused at the shocked, somewhat scandalized look on Saemus's face after being shut down so abruptly. His rising irritation and anger at the mention of the Qunari cult… gang… whatever they were, made him not give a damn, however.

"Whatever you're going to say after that," Hawke said, "I don't want to hear."

"They've agreed to help if-"

"If you give them your right ear?" Hawke snapped.

Saemus laughed uncomfortably. "Wh-what? No! Nothing like that. Just… a small part of Lowtown. Near the docks."

Hawke shook his head, sighing. Saemus was a child, his father was right. But maybe… maybe he wasn't entirely wrong. "And in return what do you get? A dead father?"

Saemus pursed his lips. "I love my father, serah."

Hawke sighed again, more heavily this time. He understood. He just didn't expect such ruthlessness to come from someone like Saemus. But to involve the Qunari? To invite them back into Kirkwall after Hawke kicked them out? No. He wouldn't give his turf up to anyone. He'd share it with Coterie and Carta but they worked _together_ not against one another. And if they did? Well. Brekker had been missing for weeks and everyone knew what happened to Meeran. No one worked against Garrett Hawke.

"No Qunari."

Saemus frowned, a slightly pouting expression. "Mr. Hawke-"

"We'll talk. Discuss… business," he said. "But you let me handle this. You want viscount? I'll give it to you on a silver platter, but quid pro quo, right?"

Saemus licked his lips and nodded, eyes shining. He understood. He was a politician's son. "Whatever it takes, serah."

"I'll be in touch, then," Hawke said, and offered his hand.

Saemus shook it firmly. "I'll be awaiting your contact."

Hawke grunted and got into his Escalade, watching Saemus disappear back around the corner before he pulled down the drive and out of the gates. Saemus Dumar as viscount. Probably the youngest Kirkwall had seen since Orlesian occupation put a child in office. But, he thought, it could work. Saemus was pro-magic and very vocal about equal rights among the people. It was one of the reasons the upper class hated him. But a lot of the upper class followed Hawke's influence. And if he had to be perfectly honest, the alternatives were worse.

Would Saemus bend to him? Or if he put the kid in power, would he turn on Hawke? He was shrewd, it was true. But he wasn't stupid. He'd gone to the Qunari but didn't offer them anything he couldn't deliver. Saemus knew better than to get on Hawke's bad side and simply give them the docks. Naïve, yes. Horribly optimistic, of course. But not stupid. He would have to bring the information to Varric. Something bulletproof he could nail to Saemus, a written contract maybe, for a hit on his father. Something that would keep Saemus in his pocket for years to come.

But that would come later. Right now? Right now he had plans to visit a certain clinic.


	19. Chapter 19

Anders' welcome back to the clinic was fantastic. Even Selby was there, hugging him tightly, which was unusual because he never pegged her as a particularly touchy feely sort of woman. Lirene had been close to tears of joy, and even Jowan swung by with Lily to welcome him back. They chipped in and bought him a bottle of champagne and a new pair of scrubs. Anders was glad when they didn't ask him to relive his time at the Gallows, and followed Selby to her office when she asked. She presented him with his paychecks for the weeks he'd been locked up.

"But I didn't work," he protested.

"But you would have. And everyone needs to eat, love. Take them."

After much hemming and hawing and a threat from Selby, he did, and found himself settled now in his office, everyone except Lirene gone for the night. It was excruciatingly slow, but he hardly minded. He'd made himself a pot of coffee earlier and was debating another when the phone rang. His heart skipped and he looked down, flipping it open and felt a flutter of disappointment.

"Hey Justice," he said, and felt a little bad for hoping it was Hawke.

"How are things on your first day back?"

"Peachy," Anders sighed, sitting back in the chair. He lifted his feet up onto the desk, glancing around the room. "They moved the filing cabinet."

"These things happen."

If Justice had been anyone else, Anders would've taken it for light sarcasm. But Justice was being quite literal. "I suppose they do. And how is your evening?"

"Nathaniel and I played a board game."

Anders tried not to laugh. "Oh? What board game?"

"I've forgotten the name, but I'm fairly sure he cheated. He was the banker."

He sounded so put out, Anders was hard pressed not to tease him. "Well he is a politician now, Justice. You know you can't trust them."

Justice sighed. "I suppose. Well. I wanted to call to see if you needed anything."

"I'm fine, really," Anders said, his fingertips straying to the collar around his neck. He could slide a finger between the fabric and his skin, but it still felt too tight. No one had commented on it, though Selby had given it a wary look, and Anders remembered the story about her sister. "You should go to bed. I'll have Lirene drive me home in the morning."

"Nonsense. I'll pick you up on my way to work."

"And turn around and drive all the way back to Hightown," Anders said, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine, really."

"Perhaps Nathaniel can take you home then. He's leased a car."

Anders heard, faintly in the background, Nathaniel's voice. "Does he need a ride in the morning? I can pick him up."

Maker, why did everyone think he was so incapable of the slightest things? "No," he said sternly. "I'll have Lirene drop me off. I mean it, Justice. If you or Nate show up, I'll pretend I don't know you. And stop frowning in disapproval."

"You cannot see me."

"No, but I know you, and I know you're frowning. So stop. I can take care of myself."

"I did not mean to imply-"

Anders' dropped his head back, staring up at the ceiling incredulously. "Maker, but you're sensitive tonight. I'm fine. I will be fine. I promise. Just go play another board game or go to sleep. Or call Joy."

"She would not thank me for calling her so late."

Anders was going to throw his phone across the room in sheer frustration. He loved his brother, he really did, but he had anticipated something like this after his release. Justice could be overprotective to a fault. It was a wonder he'd ever managed to live his own life without his brother's shadow hanging over him.

"I'll call you if I need anything. I promise," he said again. "Okay?"

"Very well."

"Otherwise I'll see you when you come home tomorrow night."

"Did you want me to bring home anything?"

Anders pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, clapping a hand over his face and let out a silent scream. When he brought the phone back, Justice was making dinner suggestions. "Yes, anything is fine. I need to go. There's a urinary tract infection patient I need to look at. Bye." He hung up, and he only felt a little guilty for it. "Mother hen," he muttered, and looked up as he heard Lirene arguing with someone.

Frowning, Anders dropped his feet from the desk and took up his white coat. He tugged in on, putting on his best doctor face and stepped into the hall. Several steps down, he realized he recognized the voice.

"Listen, sweetheart, he wants to see me."

"No, he doesn't, and my name isn't 'sweetheart' so you can take your smooth-talking-"

"Lirene," Anders said, appearing at the mouth of the hall.

Lirene and Hawke turned to look at him, the former scowling while the latter… well, had a rather self-satisfied smile on his face. He was holding a coffee carrier and a bag from a local shop. Anders didn't know if he wanted to scream or cry or laugh. He'd been out of the Gallows for a day and a half and people seemed to not get the idea that he was, in fact, okay.

"Hawke, I said 'call me' not 'show up at the clinic'."

Hawke shrugged a little. "Same difference? I brought coffee and doughnuts."

Anders wanted to smack him. He was so presumptuous. And whatever happened to his convictions the night he broke up with Hawke? He'd said that he never wanted to see him again. It was better that way. He knew it. Justice would be horribly disappointed. And if he just wanted sex, well, Nathaniel had made it perfectly clear that he was fine with a casual relationship. But Hawke… 

"Damn it," Anders muttered. "Fine. Come on."

He led Hawke back to the office and Hawke, damn him, followed like an overeager puppy. Anders had seen this man get angry, threaten people, _kill_ people. And his first impression of him from last night to this one was a big dumb dog trying to please its owner. Anders gestured him to a seat while he removed his coat, settling behind the desk. Hawke set the coffee and doughnuts down and dropped heavily into the vinyl chair.

"You can pay me back for the coffee and the doughnuts if you want," Hawke said.

"What?" Anders had no idea what he meant by that.

Hawke shrugged. "You know. It's not a… couch," he said, waving his hand.

Anders stared at him a moment. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience before sitting forward and taking the coffee. "I know. It's okay. And thank you," he added, taking a sip. It had a hint of hazelnut and was only lightly sweetened, and it was damn near perfect. Of course it would be. "Why didn't you just call?"

"I wanted to see you." He was earnest, and looking at Anders warily. "And I didn't want to discuss this over the phone."

"Discuss what?"

Hawke was quiet and not looking at him. He looked uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, and Anders was worried suddenly.

"Did something happen? Bethany or-"

"No," Hawke said quickly. "No. It's about the viscount's office."

"The vi-… Hawke, just tell me." He was confused. Why should he give a fig about the viscount's office?

"Alrik's running against Dumar."

Anders nearly dropped his coffee. He set the cup down quickly so it wouldn't betray his shaking hand. "I… see," he said carefully.

"He won't get it," Hawke promised. "I won't let him."

Anders swallowed, trying not to let the memory of that day overcome him. Hawke knew about it. He'd told Hawke, trusted Hawke with one of his most private secrets. "If he becomes viscount-"

"He won't," Hawke growled.

"The Gallows would be a thousand times worse."

"No shit. But I know what I'm doing. You trust me, right?" Hawke asked, somewhat hopefully.

Anders frowned, taking up his coffee again. Trust. It was a funny thing. Did he trust Hawke? Amusingly enough yes, he trusted Hawke with his life. Maybe not with his heart, but definitely his life. For some reason, whatever it was, Hawke had counted him among his family, among the people he risked his life to protect. Seeing him now again, after weeks of being locked up, after their terrifyingly awkward and draining meeting the previous night, it almost felt as if things had gone back to normal. After all, how many times had they sat together in this clinic and talked or played cards or… 

_"Shh, Lirene will hear," Anders whispered as he slid his hand down the front of Hawke's jeans._

_Hawke groaned and pulled him up for another kiss before turning them around, slamming him to the wall. "Can we fuck yet?" he growled._

_"No. It's going to be in a bed with proper prep," Anders insisted._

_"Guess I'll just have to settle for your gorgeous mouth then," Hawke said, kissing him again._

_Anders laughed quietly, sinking to his knees while Hawke pressed his forehead against the wall. "Yes," he said, unzipping his jeans fully now, "poor you."_

Anders felt the heat rising in his cheeks at the memory and looked away. The bag rustled and Hawke took out a doughnut, pulling a bite sized chunk from it and popped it in his mouth. He licked the sugar from his fingers and Anders had an almost overwhelming desire to seize his wrist and draw one of them into his mouth and suck.

"I trust you," he said quietly.

"You okay?" Hawke frowned. "I guess that's not… Look. I…"

Anders shook his head. "We were a bad idea, Hawke. And you coming to my clinic isn't helping me get over you."

"Why get over me? Why try? You can have me. I'm right here."

Maker, it was like a bad romance film. Anders sighed and looked at him seriously. "I already told you why."

"Because I kill people."

"That's a big part of it, yes," Anders said.

"But you knew that. At least on some level," Hawke said, sitting back, sipping his coffee. "Even before you kissed me. That night after Sunday dinner."

Anders remembered it. It was the first time he truly wanted it. If he was completely honest with himself, it was probably the night he fell in love with Hawke, at his open vulnerability, talking about his father. It was a raw wound, still fresh despite Malcolm's death years ago. Anders knew that pain all too well.

"Maybe I did," he agreed. "But I didn't want to believe it."

"But you won't even consider us now," Hawke said.

"It's not a good idea." He wanted to offer him something. Friendship. But that would be too insulting. You couldn't just dump someone after only a few weeks of knowing them and give them a consolation prize. Removing Hawke had to be like ripping off a band-aid. Or more accurately, cauterizing a wound. "I should have been firmer, I suppose. I really don't think…"

Hawke was standing, approaching. Anders sat back in his chair, looking up, trying not to tremble as Hawke leaned down.

"Don't," Anders said warningly, putting a hand up.

Hawke grabbed it, holding it tightly, and the other one as Anders tried again, and leaned down further. Anders turned his head, but Hawke followed and kissed him hard. Anders struggled a bit, but eventually relaxed, opening his mouth when Hawke's tongue sought entrance. Everything inside him was screaming to pull away, to stop, but the familiar taste, the feeling of Hawke's scratchy beard against his cheeks and chin. He wanted it. He wrenched his wrist from Hawke's grasp and grabbed the back of his head, holding him there.

_Maker, this is such a bloody mess._

He pulled back, pushing at Hawke's chest, and felt a cut of longing when Hawke stepped away.

"Just… go, Hawke."

"After that?"

"Especially after that," Anders said, not looking at him.

"You kissed me back."

Anders glared at him. "And that's the problem. When I'm with you, I just want things the way they used to be. But they can't. We can't go back to that. Don't you get it? I'm trying to move on with my life after… after us. And you just keep… Please," he sighed. "I thought maybe we could work back up into something… but it's not…"

Hawke ran a hand through his hair and retreated to the other side of the desk. He walked to the door, but stopped and turned to look at Anders. "You really piss me off."

Anders stood, angry now. "Me? I piss _you_ off? Well I'm _so_ bloody sorry for making _your_ life miserable!"

"Yeah well you should be!" Hawke growled, stepping back into the room. "Before you, my life was easy and then you had to fuck it up."

Anders couldn't believe the childish, arrogant, pretentious crap that was spewing from Hawke's mouth. "You're the one who came into my clinic! You're the one who started following _me_ around! You're the one who kissed _me_ first! This is not my fault! None of this is my fault!"

"Anders?" It was Lirene, just visible past Hawke in the hallway. "Do you want me to call the police?"

Anders sighed in frustration. "No. No, Lirene. It's fine. Thanks. Just… give us a minute." He walked over to her, shoving past Hawke, gave her a quick, reassuring smile, and shut the door. He looked at Hawke, lowering his voice. "I can't do this."

Hawke leaned in; Anders dodged, hand on his chest. 

"Hawke," he breathed. Maker, why was it so hard to think with him so close? His scent, so familiar now, reminding him of what they'd been through, what they'd done together. Just cuddling on a sofa or in bed. His shoulders shook a little as Hawke embraced him, and he leaned against his chest, head down. It would be easy just to accept him back.

"I meant what I said," Hawke whispered, rubbing his back gently. "I don't… I'm shit at feelings."

Anders let out a laugh. "I know."

"I'll go."

"Please."

"…Can I call you?"

_No,_ Anders thought. _Say no._ "I'll call you when I'm ready."

"I'll wait for you."

Anders felt the press of a kiss to the top of his head, and heard the door open. A moment later, Hawke was gone. Anders stood there a moment, feeling more lost and confused than he'd had in a very long time. If he accepted Hawke back into his life, it meant compromising his own morality. Knowing the man he was with killed people. They could be murderers or rapists – terrible people who deserved to be tried to the fullest extent of the law. But Hawke wasn't the law. He was just a man. And if Anders condoned that behavior, what did that make him?

Sighing, he returned to his desk, eyeing the coffee with disdain, but drank it anyway as he turned to catch up on paperwork.


	20. Chapter 20

"It's not going to ring if you just stare at it harder, Hawke," Varric said, setting down a plate of burgers and fries in front of him.

Hawke scowled and slipped his phone back in his pocket. It was post-dinner rush at the Hanged Man and the restaurant was nearly empty save for a few teenagers on the opposite end of the house, and those who wanted a nicer bar than what Darktown had to offer, but couldn't afford Hightown's fancy prices. Corff didn't spin bottles like the bartenders at the Pearl nor did he wear a fancy tie like Quintus at the Blooming Rose, but he knew how to listen to people. He also knew how to get coin from them and keep them coming back, which was why the Hanged Man served drinks well into morning, despite the liquor law saying they needed to stop at a certain hour.

Hawke, who'd been drinking and waiting and slipping Corff extra tips despite the fact that everything he ever ate or drank was comped by Varric, was feeling particularly maudlin and very irritated. It had been over twenty-four hours since he'd seen Anders, and he hadn't received a call yet. He debated calling him, but he wasn't drunk enough to think that was a good idea. And now Varric was trying to feed him, possibly in an attempt to sober him up.

"I'm not staring," Hawke said, and pulled the plate closer, dipping the fries in the house sauce. He tried to get Varric to tell Orana how to make it, but the best he could make him do was to send over a few bottles of the stuff.

"Pining?"

Hawke growled. "Do you have a point?"

Varric settled on the bar stool next to him, waving to Corff who poured him a beer. Varric took a sip before answering. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Hawke was getting annoyed. Varric might be a friend, but he had no right to go prying into his business like this. It was bad enough Bethany had commented that she spoke to Anders that afternoon. He really didn't need everyone in his personal life.

"That you're miserable without Blondie."

"Right. Well. I'm leaving." Hawke made to stand, but Varric put a hand on his arm. "Let go. Or lose it."

Varric tutted. "I'm not Fenris. You can't expect that to work on me."

Hawke sighed and settled, but his irritation remained. "Tell me some good news to get my mind off… this," he said, waving a hand.

"Well you have all my good news," Varric admitted. "Karras and Keran are taken care of. Wilmod's tucked up in the Gallows for now, untouchable at the moment, though strictly speaking he's not done anything-"

"Yet. Fucking templars."

"You never used to have a problem with them before," Varric pointed out airily, sipping his beer. "This thing with Anders, it's got you wound tight."

"No shit," Hawke muttered, and took up the burger. 

Despite everything, he was starving. He hadn't eaten all day, keeping himself busy with emails, answering fundraising requests and finally responding to the reporters who all wanted interviews. Years of working with the press and he knew how to be careful with his words. Varric had helped him polish the edges of a statement that went up on every major news site. He denied all involvement with the Red Iron, giving only the details Carver had given the police, and refused to speak about Anders.

_"The nature of the relationship between myself and Dr. Anders is personal and confidential. I request that you respect his privacy in these trying times following his release from prison and defer all questions to our lawyer."_

What he really wanted to write was something he knew neither Varric nor Anders – especially Anders – would be happy with. More or less telling the reporters to piss off and leave his boyfriend alone. Because even with everything that happened between them, he couldn't stop thinking about Anders in that capacity. And it was frustrating.

"All right," Varric said, stroking his chin. "Good news. That Alain kid?"

"Hn?" Hawke managed around a full mouth.

"He's being released on parole tomorrow."

Hawke swallowed hard. "What? But I only gave you his name what – a week ago?"

Varric shrugged, trying to look modest and failing. "Something like that. You said it was important, right?"

"Did I?"

He couldn't remember if he'd had. But Varric picked up on the subtle cues that Hawke no doubt had accidentally let slip.

"They're giving him time served but he has to check in with a parole officer every week."

Hawke frowned. "What about… the kid doesn't have anything, does he?"

Varric withdrew a tri-folded and stapled stack of papers from inside his jacket pocket and handed it to Hawke, who took it. He unfolded it, eyes flicking down the pages as he flipped. Two leases. One for a condo and another for a car.

"Give me the annotated version?" he asked, turning to the last page that awaited a signature. He was already taking the pen that Varric offered.

"You buy the condo, rent it out to him. You buy the car, give it to him as a charitable donation. Tax write-offs, the whole nine yards. You get some good publicity and the kid gets a second chance at life."

Hawke frowned a little. "And a job? No one's going to hire a mage fresh from the Gallows. Anders-" Maker, it hurt to say his name. He ignored the twinge in his chest. "He was fired from the hospital." He had to make a note to find a way to fund that shithole clinic discreetly. Anders seemed happy there, and if the woman who ran it was good enough to let him keep his job, Hawke wanted to make sure she had what she needed to run it efficiently.

"He's got one already. I needed a new busboy anyway. And if he proves he can keep up with it all, I'll get him the training he needs to be a server."

"You think of everything," Hawke noted, signing both papers before handing them back to Varric.

"That's what you pay me for," Varric said lightly, tucking them into his jacket. "Did you want to meet him at all? I'm sure he'll want to thank you for your philanthropy."

"You mean my money," Hawke said, though he didn't quite hit the bitter tone he was aiming for. "Sure. I'll meet him. Here?"

"It'll probably take the morning to get him settled, so sometime after the dinner rush but before the barflies start buzzing."

Hawke nodded and they sat together for a few minutes in silence, Varric drinking, watching the large television above the bar, Hawke devouring his burger and fries. Finally, he swallowed, taking a sip of the rich ale the Hanged Man always had on tap, and looked at Varric.

"There's another matter of business I want to talk about."

"I'm all ears, Hawke."

"Private," Hawke said. Discussing the assassination of the viscount in the middle of a restaurant, despite the late hour and dwindling patronage, was a first-class ticket to either a blackmail situation or a lengthy trial where 'probable cause' would be enough to get him locked up for at least a decade. "Maybe tomorrow after I meet with the kid."

"Works for me," Varric said, draining his glass, waving Corff away when he went to take it. "I know where the dishwasher is."

He gathered Hawke's glass, despite Hawke's protests that he wasn't finished, and his now empty plate.

"Go home, Hawke," Varric said. "And keep your phone in your pocket."

He tipped a wink and headed to the back to deposit the dishes. Hawke sighed and slid another bill across the bar, rapping on it with his knuckles before taking up his coat. Corff thanked him, wishing him a good night, and Hawke ambled out. Too drunk to drive at this point, he did remove his phone from his pocket, but exercised self-control enough not to call Anders to ask why he hadn't contacted him yet. Instead, he woke a disgruntled Fenris to come pick him up.

"Hope you're happy, Varric," he muttered, and leaned against the hood of his car to wait.


	21. Chapter 21

Anders laughed more in one night than he'd had in a long time. Nathaniel had somehow convinced Justice for a rematch and they'd been playing board games all afternoon, well into the evening now. He was also very slightly drunk, though Justice initially was against the idea.

"He's a free man," Nathaniel argued. "Let him have a few beers."

Justice relented, Anders promising him that he'd stop after a few. Unfortunately Nathaniel had stocked up quite a bit and they were making their way through yet another six pack while Justice complained that Nathaniel must have been cheating. Otherwise why would he own so many properties of the same color? And how did he keep affording all the hotels? And how did Justice keep landing on said properties?

"You owe me," Nathaniel said, trying to do the math in his head while he took another swing from his bottle. "Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty-two dollars."

Anders snickered, trying to cover it with the back of his hand. The empty beer bottles on the counter and the folded, broken down pizza boxes around the garbage can testament to their impromptu celebration. He did not have to return to the clinic that night, and he was feeling lighter and happier than he'd had since his incarceration. Nathaniel hadn't grown a sense of humor so much as developed a thick sense of sarcasm. He attributed it to working closely with the King of Ferelden and the need for some dryness to offset the king's naiveté.

Justice scowled. "I have already mortgaged all my properties."

"Then you have to declare bankruptcy."

"Here," Anders said, handing a stack of bright orange bills to Justice. "Consider it a loan."

Justice declined. "I have an early shift." He stood, ignoring the protests from both Nathaniel and Anders. "Sleep well."

Nathaniel watched him head upstairs. "Does he always get that way when he loses?"

"Every time," Anders chuckled. "It's not even that late. He just wants to go pout in private. Maybe call Joy to tell her how you cheated. Again."

"Lies," Nathaniel stated simply. He finished his beer and leaned back to place it on the counter with the rest of the empties. "Shall we finish or…?"

"I think I won," Anders said. "Even with your blatant cheating."

"Winner cleans up," Nathaniel stated with a smirk.

Anders made a face, but grinned as Nathaniel helped him clean up anyway. Box top on, Anders picked up the game to put it back in the hall closet when Nathaniel took his wrist. He paused, frowning, and looked at Nathaniel. Nathaniel was definitely drunk or at least not sober enough to be in his right frame of mind. He stepped forward, into Anders' personal space, and Anders had to dodge the sloppy kiss.

"I… apologize," Nathaniel said, stepping back.

"It's fine, Nate," Anders sighed. "It's just really bad timing." Among other things, he thought.

"Do you think-" Nathaniel started, but stopped at the knock on the door.

Anders frowned, setting the board game down, and slowly approached the door. It was late, too late for anything innocent like package deliveries, and they'd not ordered any food. He thought for one wild second that it would be Hawke, there to have a talk. Maker, that's all he needed right now. He leaned up to look out the peephole, and frowned.

"Who is it?" came Justice's voice from the top of the steps. He was moving down quickly now, and Anders was pleased at least that he didn't have his gun in his hand.

"It's… It's a friend of mine," Anders said, and unlocked the door. Justice moved right behind him, peering over his shoulder. "Alain?"

Alain stood on the doorstep, bathed in the porch light, a sheepish grin on his face. "I didn't know if it was too late to drop by…"

Anders took one step out and wrapped his arms tightly around Alain, ignoring the _oof_ from his friend. He squeezed tightly, and felt Alain tapping him exaggeratedly on the shoulder. Anders let him go, holding him at arm's length for a minute to look at him, speechless, before dragging him inside, nearly tripping on Justice who still stood right behind him.

"Justice, for Andraste's sake, make room!" he laughed. "How did you… How, I mean…" He tried to find the right words as he pulled Alain in, shutting the door. "Oh! Introductions." He could hardly contain himself, shifting from foot to foot, keeping one hand on Alain's shoulder, almost as if he was afraid that letting him go meant he'd disappear. "My brother Justice, my old friend Nathaniel. This is Alain. We were in the Gallows together and I had no idea you were getting out, what happened?" he finished in a rush.

Nathaniel shook his head. "Perhaps he should sit down first before the interrogation?"

Anders, still grinning, laughed and steered Alain to the couch, pushing him down. "Talk!"

Alain nodded nervously to acknowledge the other men, one which was looking amused, the other somewhat stern. "I ah. I was paroled. Time served. They finally had a judge look over my case and my lawyer argued justifiable homicide."

Justice tensed when Alain said, 'homicide.' Anders shot him a warning look. Though this was Justice's house and technically Anders had let in this virtual unknown, Anders wouldn't have his brother's bias making Alain uncomfortable. He'd make it up to Justice somehow. Later.

"I thought the public defender had all but given up," Anders said, while Nathaniel settled next to him on the couch.

Alain smiled a little anxiously. "Well that's it. I got a visitor from your lawyer. That Antivan? He pled my case."

Anders' smile faltered. "Oh?"

"Mmhm. I just came from meeting with Mr. Hawke-"

Justice let out what could only be described as an indignant growl. "You're going to get yourself in trouble."

Alain turned to look at him, the excitement and elation he felt moments ago now fading from his face. "I… beg pardon?"

"What he means," Anders pressed, "is that Hawke is…"

Justice scoffed. "The reason that you were put in prison in the first place. The whole reason you were kidnapped from your apartment. The entire reason you were put in a position of danger and nearly died-"

"Justice!" Anders snapped. "Really."

"He has a point," Nathaniel said quietly.

Anders turned to look at him incredulously. "You too?"

"The truth often hurts."

Part of him agreed with them. Hawke was dangerous. He always had been and always would be. But they never got to see the other side of Hawke. The one that could be so loving and somewhat selfless at times. He wasn't what he presented to the public. But to try to argue the point would be useless. So instead he stood, taking Alain by the arm.

"We'll continue this reunion on the patio," he said, taking up his coat. "Good night, both of you."

"Anders," Justice began.

Anders shook his head and led Alain outside to where two nights prior he'd spoke to Hawke. He gestured to a patio chair and Alain settled himself in a bit nervously.

"Don't worry about them," Anders said, closing the sliding glass door.

"I know your involvement with Mr. Hawke was… antagonistic," Alain said hesitantly. "Should I have declined the help?"

Anders settled next to him, dragging the chair to face him. "You're out. That's what matters. Did… Hawke make you sign any contracts or enter any deals?" It was the question he wanted to ask a few minutes ago, but doing so in front of Justice would've been a Very Bad Idea, with capital letters.

Alain frowned. "No. Should he have?"

"No. Just curious." Anders wondered then what Hawke was getting out of it. "Did he ask you to do him any favors? Wait," he said suddenly, a terrible thought forming, "he didn't tell you to come here and talk to me, did he?"

"No," Alain said, confused. "He didn't even seem all that thrilled to meet me. His friend Mr. Tethras handled all the paperwork as far as I know. They set me up with a nice one bedroom place in Lowtown, close to where another of their friends lives and even got me a car and a job. I'll be paying them back of course, but it helps a lot that I won't be living on the street. Not many people will hire us, will they?"

Anders thought bitterly about his lost position at the hospital. "That's true enough." He stood abruptly. "Let me make some coffee. It'll offset the alcohol I've been drinking all night anyway, and you can tell me all about your case."

Alain smiled, and Anders headed back inside. Justice, it seemed, had retreated upstairs. Nathaniel was lingering in the kitchen, cleaning up the evening's festivities. Anders put on a pot of coffee before turning to address him.

"You can come sit with us if you want," he offered. "But I really can't take any criticisms right now."

Nathaniel frowned. "Hawke's doing this to worm his way into your good graces."

"And?"

"And that doesn't bother you?"

_It's better than a couch,_ Anders thought. Hawke was helping people. Helping people like Alain who really, truly deserved another chance. And Anders hadn't asked him to do it. Even if he did have ulterior motives, what did it matter? He was using his influence and money for good things, not for threats and blackmail. It was a turning point, wasn't it?

"This isn't about Hawke tonight though," Anders said, getting out three mugs. "Alain just got out of prison. I want to celebrate with him. He's my friend."

Nathaniel mulled this over for a moment, still frowning. "Very well. Call him back in though. He'll catch his death out there."

Anders grinned. "You'll like him, Nate, I promise," he said, and went to collect Alain.


	22. Chapter 22

It was late when Alain finally left, and Nathaniel excused himself to head to sleep. Anders, who'd slept most of the morning away following his clinic shift, was wide awake. He could have lain in his double bed in Justice's guest room, listening to the sounds of Nathaniel snoring or set up on the couch to watch TV. But what sounded best to him at the moment was a very hot bath. Since his first night home when Nathaniel suggested it, it had sounded like a good idea. And it was, sinking into the hot water, letting his muscles relax. He'd never thought a bath could feel so wonderful. But after being denied that luxury while locked up, he decided to indulge as much as he could now.

Tub filling up, he collected his laptop and a few books just in case, setting them on the hamper. He smirked at the collection of shower gels and bubble baths and other assorted feminine things that seemed to be invading Justice's guest bathroom. It was only a matter of time before Joy moved in, though Anders knew Justice would insist on marriage first. Do things the proper way, that's how he'd always been. Still, it was a boon now, as he picked one that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla.

"Nothing wrong with indulging the feminine side, right Ser Pounce-a-lot?"

Ser Pounce wasn't at all like Mr. Wiggums, who hated bath time. Ser Pounce was fearless when it came to water. He even warmed up to strangers fairly quickly, despite his initial skittishness. In fact, the only thing Ser Pounce truly seemed to hate was the garbage truck, and would alternate between hissing at the window as the trash was picked up, or hiding under the bed until it was gone. Now, he leaned up against the tub, sniffing at the soap. Deciding that cinnamon was _not_ to his liking, he instead leapt up to the sink, gingerly turned around a few times, and settled in it.

"Weirdo," Anders said fondly, scratching him between the ears.

He slipped quietly into the darkened guestroom where Nathaniel was already asleep and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms from his drawer. After his bath he'd likely curl up on the couch until he fell asleep. Just as he was leaving, a blinking blue light caught his eye. His phone was finished charging. He hesitated, then unplugged it, taking it into the bathroom with him. Carefully locking the door, feeling the blanket of warmth wash over him, he undressed and tied his hair back before sinking into the bubbles. The water rose up and he leaned forward, turning it off, the quiet dripping the only noise echoing in the otherwise silent bathroom.

"This is a bad idea," he declared, not about the bath, but the insane idea that formed in his mind.

But of course, he did it anyway. With a sigh, he flipped open the phone and opened his contacts, hitting one of the speed dials. Of course Hawke was still on speed dial, and he was also listed as an emergency contact, right alongside Justice. And wouldn't his brother just get a kick out of that if he found out? On the second ring, Hawke picked up.

"Anders?"

Anders laughed at the eagerness, and said, quietly, "Yes."

There was an uncertain pause. "Hey."

"Hey," Anders whispered, head back against the cool porcelain. He closed his eyes. "How are you?"

"I… A little tired, I guess," Hawke admitted. He sounded it, too.

"Are you busy?" Anders let his hand pass through the bubbles, listening as they fizzled, lulled by the steady dripping of the tub's faucet.

"No. Just got home from the Hanged Man."

Anders felt a pang of jealousy. He remembered their nights out, just hanging out with Hawke and the rest, drinking, playing cards while Isabela had been working her charms on Meeran. What had happened to her had been nothing short of horrendous. He frowned. "How is everyone?"

"They're… they're good. You know. Merrill misses Carver a little, but they'll have visiting days and I think inmates get internet access for a few hours a week."

"Oh." It sounded nothing like the Gallows, where even getting a newspaper was a big deal. "And Isabela?"

"Same as always," Hawke replied easily. He paused again, then added, "They miss you."

Anders flinched. "I… yeah, I miss them too."

"I could talk to the judge. Get an order to let you out for Sunday dinner. Mother's in Orlais for a bit, but Bethany's going to stay here at least another week or two. I know she wants to see you."

"She should come over," Anders said, before he could stop himself. "Maybe when Justice is at work," he added.

"I'll let her know you said that. So. You… you called."

Anders smiled, leaning up to pull a washcloth from a linen rack. He settled down again. "I did."

"Is that… water?"

Anders blushed a little, embarrassed though Hawke couldn't see him, and dragged the washcloth through the water. "Yes."

Silence for a bit, and Anders thought perhaps he lost the connection. He checked the screen, but no, the call timer was still going.

"Hawke?"

"You called me while you were taking a bath?"

Anders could've laughed. Hawke's voice sounded choked. Tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder, he lathered the cloth with soap before gingerly taking the phone again with slightly wet fingers.

"Yes. I wanted to relax."

" _Maker_ , Anders. How is that fair?"

"How is what fair?" Anders asked almost innocently, lifting a leg out of the water to wash himself lazily. "By the way, thank you."

"For what?"

"Alain."

"Oh." A pause. "Yeah, that. It's a bit of a long story. I'm sorry I didn't… It's… okay, right?"

Anders smiled at the unsureness in his tone. "Hawke. I'm betting it was Thrask that told you. And… it's… it's okay. I thought I would maybe get angry with you for interfering, but what you did for Alain, it was really, really touching. He didn't deserve to be locked up in there."

"No more than you did," Hawke said. "I read his file."

"It was a good thing," Anders assured him. "I appreciate it."

"Then… sure. Yeah. You're welcome," Hawke added quickly. "Can we get back to the part where you're naked?"

Anders laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. "Okay," he whispered. He licked his lips, wiping his sweaty face. His stomach clenched pleasantly, slightly nervous and a little dizzy. "Only if you tell me what you're wearing."

_Maker,_ he thought, _I feel like a teenager again._

There was a rustling of clothing, the sound of a door shutting. "T-shirt. Boxers."

"You just stripped, didn't you?"

"I hope you're not blaming me," Hawke said lightly. The sound of a mattress creaking. "Are we doing this?" he asked, almost sounding uncertain.

"Yeah," Anders breathed, his switching the phone to his left hand so he could snake his right down his chest to his stomach. "I think we are."

Hawke groaned, a sound that reverberated through Anders' skin, feeling like electricity. "Maker's breath, Anders. I… want to touch you."

"Where?"

"All over," Hawke whispered. "I'd press you up against a wall and kiss you until you were breathless."

He'd done it before, and Anders recalled it now. "Mm. I think I'd like that."

"As I remove your clothes, I'd kiss every inch of skin, then bite it until you were bruised."

Anders spread his legs, hand slipping down between them to encircle the base of his cock, which was already growing hard. "You want to bruise me?" he asked, his voice heady.

"Yes," Hawke breathed. "You're mine."

A proclamation like that a few days ago would've annoyed Anders. Now it only served to excite him. For tonight, just for tonight, it would be okay. He would sort out his complicated feelings for Hawke later. Now he just wanted to listen to him.

"Tell me more," he urged him.

"Are you touching yourself?"

Anders let out a shaky laugh. "Yes. You know I am."

"After I got you naked, I would throw you on the bed and kiss you again. I'd lick and nuzzle until I found that spot on your ribs that has you squirming under me."

Anders' breath hitched as he took himself fully in hand, stroking firmly now. He knew what spot Hawke was talking about. He remembered it was equally tickling and arousing, and he recalled Hawke's preoccupation with making him laugh and beg.

"Then I'd tease you. Kiss your hips. Lick the insides of your thighs until you were begging me. Beg me for it."

"Hawke," Anders sighed. "Please."

"You're so hard. Under me. Begging me to suck you."

"Ye-esss," Anders hissed, hips arching up, gasping as the cool air played over his cock. He swiped his thumb along the head, imagining Hawke's mouth on him.

"Fuck, I love the noises you make," Hawke laughed. "It's not fair."

"What's not fair?" Anders asked.

"Your voice."

"I could say the same for yours," Anders gasped, then moaned, a little more pronounced than he would have.

"Shit, Anders. I want…"

"Tell me."

"I want to fuck you."

"Yes."

"Would you let me fuck you?"

Anders responded by stroking himself faster, imagining Hawke taking him for the first time. They hadn't yet worked up to that point, wanting to wait, Anders wanting to show him how to do it properly. Hands and mouths were enough in the meantime, but the thought of Hawke pressing him back to the mattress, bending him in half, kissing him hotly as he fucked him hard.

"Oh Maker yes," he hissed. "Hawke, I…"

"Are you close?" Hawke whispered, his tone low and gravelly. "Close for me, Anders? Talk to me."

"S-so close," Anders breathed.

He stopped talking, listening as Hawke continued a stream of encouragement, urging him to come.

"Say my name," Hawke ordered. "I want to hear it when you come."

Anders bit his lip, then let out a throaty moan as he came. "Garrett… fuck…" He thrust again into his hand, stroking firmly as he orgasmed, entire body feeling set aflame. Eyes shut tightly, he saw Hawke briefly, overtop him, arrogant smirk on his face, proud of having brought him to completion. Finally he relaxed, uncoiling, and breathing hard.

Hawke chuckled, a sound that went straight to the base of his spine. "All right, sweetheart?"

Anders almost cried at the endearment. He struggled to sit up, switching his phone back to his right hand and wiped the sweat from his face with his left. "Yes," he managed, clearing his throat, which had gone horribly dry. "Yes. You?"

"Little sticky," Hawke admitted. "Worth every second."

"Hawke…"

"Tell me anything," Hawke said, "just don't tell me it was a mistake."

"No," Anders whispered. "It… I…"

"Mm?"

Anders felt his heart racing, and suddenly felt very hot despite the quickly cooling water. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse, ragged with emotion. "Hawke, I love you."

The pause that followed was extremely heavy, and Anders watched as the last of the bubbles faded in the water. He wondered if maybe he made a mistake, and relaxed only when Hawke spoke again.

"That's the first time you said that to me."

It was. Anders swallowed again. "I… I mean it."

Hawke let out a shaky breath. "I'd damn well hope so."

Anders laughed. "Maker's breath, Hawke," he muttered.

"What?"

"Still humble as ever." Anders didn't care. "Hawke," he said again after a minute.

"Yeah?"

"I… I'm really… Quite terrified."

Anders turned in the tub, pressing his chest to the porcelain, staring down at the patterned tiles. He felt dizzy, but an exhilarated sort of dizzy. Just a few days ago, he both hated and loved Hawke. He'd been trying to let go of the latter, but it was proving impossible. He reached down with his free hand, tracing the grout with a finger, trying to focus.

"I haven't… not since…" Anders tried, but cut off.

"Not since Karl," Hawke finished for him quietly.

"Hn," Anders agreed. "I don't know what..."

"I've never before," Hawke admitted. "Not… I mean, not ever."

Anders believed it. Someone like Hawke wouldn't ever let anyone too close. He was flattered. "Hawke."

"Hm?"

"I'm going to go now. I need to think."

"Don't…" Hawke started, sounding uncomfortable. "Don't think too hard. Yeah?"

Anders frowned. "Why?"

"Because you might decide that this is all a bad idea and go back to hating me."

He spoke in a rush, and Anders thought he understood. Hawke was never good with being open and vulnerable. These moments were hard for him, showing Anders that side of him. He cherished them, he truly did.

"I promise I won't," he said. "Hawke."

"Yeah?"

"Call me tomorrow night."

Anders could hear the smile when Hawke spoke again.

"All right."

"Good night."

"Night."

Anders hung up and set the phone on the closed toilet seat before running a hand over his face. He glanced up at Ser Pounce-a-lot, who was still relaxing in the sink. Ser Pounce let out a _mrowr?_ that sounded inquisitive.

"I don't know, Pounce," he sighed. "I really don't."

He pulled the plug on the tub, running the water again briefly to rinse off before getting out. As he dried off and dressed and headed to the living room, laptop, phone, and books in hand, he decided to take Hawke's advice and not think too hard on it as he settled in for the night.


	23. Chapter 23

Hawke would be more amused at Saemus Dumar's deer-in-headlights expression had the reason for the trip to the Pearl not included organizing an assassination. He steered him through the front room, Varric following with a grin on his face. They pushed past the throng of men crowding the stage just as the main attraction hit the pole, and Hawke gripped Saemus's arm tightly, yanking him through the back room.

"Ooh, Mr. Hawke," one of the girls said, leaning in the doorway. She was wearing a sheer red wrap that did nothing to hide the fact that she was topless. "Did you bring us a present?" She eyed Saemus pointedly.

"Maybe once we're through with business," Hawke said. "He needs his cherry popped anyway."

From the way Saemus was staring, he'd never seen a pair of tits before. Hawke wondered if it was possible to reach the age of consent nowadays without seeing a naked woman. He continued to push him upstairs and knocked loudly on Isabela's door. If the boy reacted the way he was by just seeing breasts, he couldn't imagine what a full out sex show would do. And Isabela was notorious for leaving her door unlocked, exhibitionist that she was.

She answered, fully clothed, and leaned against the doorjamb. "Well hello," she purred, leveling her eyes at Saemus. "Little Dumar. Not so little anymore." Her eyes raked down his body. "Last I saw you, you weren't quite legal yet, were you?"

Saemus sputtered, and Hawke sighed, shoving him into the room and steering him to a chair. Varric, chuckling, accepted the kiss on his cheek from Isabela and shut the door behind himself. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and waited until Isabela settled herself, crossing her long legs.

"If you're done," Hawke said.

Isabela rolled her eyes. "You're just no fun anymore."

"Business first, then pleasure. Always the way we've done it," Hawke said.

Isabela sighed but relented. "So you called me. What's this important business?"

"Political conspiracy," Varric said, with a slightly dramatic flare. "How easy do you think it would be to kill a viscount, Rivaini, and pin it on someone else?"

Isabela's eyes snapped to Saemus, who looked down. Hawke remembered what he said. He loved his father. Patricide was a horrible crime. But Hawke understood the difference between business and family. Someone gets in your way, you deal with them. If Aristide or Malcolm had given the reins of the business to Gamlen, well, Hawke wouldn't have hesitated to cut him down. Dumar was bad for the city. Bad for mages. And Hawke knew that even with his own not insubstantial influence, Alrik stood a better chance of rallying those of faith, the mage-haters, the ones with old money, than Dumar did. They needed a radical change. And with the death of the viscount, who knew – they might push the elections off for another year. Kirkwall's politics were already fucked up.

"Depends on who you want to pin it on."

"Templars," Hawke said simply.

Isabela raised an eyebrow, looking at him now. "Are you sure this isn't personal?"

Hawke pursed his lips. Had they been alone, the question might have been acceptable. In the presence of Saemus, it most definitely was not. "I could call Fenris if you're not up for the job. I just figured you'd want to get in on the action."

Varric, sensing the tension, strove to break it. "The end game is getting Babyface here into office."

Saemus startled a little at the nickname. "Please," he said, addressing Isabela now. "Mr. Hawke says you're the best person for the job." He withdrew a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to her. "My father's business schedule for the next week. I can sufficiently distract him while I meet with a Fereldan delegate. Mr. Tethras says I need an alibi."

Isabela leaned forward, allowing Saemus a view of her cleavage as she took it and sat back, looking it over. She looked up at Hawke. "In his own home?"

"We can make it look like a hit," Hawke said. "I know a few Coterie boys we can peg it on and they'll say a shady man matching the description of Alrik hired them to do it. They get five to ten while the police run around with their heads up their asses as usual." He wished Aveline was still around. She might not have agreed with his policies, but she'd sweep it all under the rug if necessary.

Isabela frowned. "Hawke, they're not going to arrest this man on such flimsy evidence."

Hawke's lips parted into a feral grin. "Oh I don't want him arrested," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. Alrik was his. A part of him wanted to bring Alrik to Anders to let his boyfriend exact his revenge, but he knew that Anders wouldn't agree to it. He'd want to see him arrested, despite his proclamations of wanting Alrik dead. Hawke had neither incarceration nor a quick death planned for Alrik.

There was a shuddering sort of silence among the other three, Saemus lowering his eyes and coughing uncomfortably. Isabela looked at the schedule again, committed it to memory, then took out a lighter and let it go up in flame.

"I can handle it," she said simply. She looked at Saemus. "When is your meeting with the Fereldan?"

"Tuesday evening we're having dinner out. We're meeting at nine."

"And you're sure your father will be home?"

Saemus nodded. "I'll handle that part."

"And Varric and I will take care of the rest," Hawke said. "I want it clean and painless, Isabela. The man doesn't deserve to suffer."

"He won't feel a thing," she promised.

Saemus, at least, looked a little reassured at that. He wiped his hands on the knees of his pants and swallowed nervously. Hawke looked back to Isabela.

"He needs alcohol and a girl. Or three," he added.

Saemus stood up quickly. "Oh no, serah, I couldn't possibly-"

Hawke shook his head. "It's a good cover anyway. Why else would I bring you to a whorehouse? No offense, Isabela."

"If it walks like a duck," she said breezily. "I'll get him nice and properly drunk and debauched." She stood and took Saemus by the arm. "Don't fret, little rabbit," she cooed. "Let mama take care of you."

She winked at Hawke and dragged a lightly protesting Saemus out of the office. Hawke turned back to Varric.

"You ever get the feeling that sometimes things are a bit too easy?"

Varric shrugged. "Considering the last month and a half?"

Hawke frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you. Your attitude. How you took a nosedive once Blondie got locked up."

"Are we doing this again? Now?" Hawke sighed. When Varric didn't respond, he continued. "I think we're good now. We talked."

Varric smirked. "Good. It's about damn time. Hawke."

"Yeah?"

"Don't fuck it up this time," he said, gesturing to the door.

Hawke scowled. He wanted to rail at Varric, to tell him to get bent. But he had to admit a bit of truth to what Varric had to say. Regardless, he thought, as he led the way out and down the steps, he made a silent promise to himself that he would not in fact, fuck it up this time.


	24. Chapter 24

Hawke hated waiting. But he trusted his people, otherwise he wouldn't have ever gotten involved with them in the first place. Isabela was the best at what she did, second to none at least in Lower Thedas and the Free Marches. No assassin in Orlais could hold a candle to what she could do. And Hawke only knew of two or three Crows out of Antiva who could handle daggers like she could. Isabela did not often use guns. Not that she had an aversion to them, far from it. She just liked getting up close and personal, that was all.

He lifted the night-vision binoculars once again to his eyes, searching the grounds. Not that he expected to find her. Beside him, Merrill sat with her laptop open, keeping an eye on the police scanner. She'd disabled the security on the viscount's estate with little difficulty. Of course it helped that she orchestrated half of the circuitry that went into it when Hawke told Dumar he should consider new security. It was so easy to have these people eating from the palm of his hand. And while it was a shame that Dumar had to be taken out, he had no doubt that his son would be just as compliant.

Hawke had plans for the boy, after all. Not just keeping Alrik out of office, but he found his agenda changing. He wanted to believe that it was selfish. That since Alrik hurt someone he liked… loved (and Maker was that ever a strange thing to admit out loud) he would get revenge on him. But the more he thought about what Anders said, the more he realized he wanted to keep other mages safe as well. Perhaps not the ones that deserved incarceration. Those that would kill just for the sake of killing. Murder served a purpose in his line of work, but there were people who were sick, regardless of magical ability. Alrik, however, wasn't in the business of watching over dangerous criminals. He was there to police hardworking doctors who might try to help their patients live.

It was a twisted system. And broken. And Hawke had never given it much thought until now. He probably wouldn't have either, if not for Anders. Even with Saemus's views. Oh sure, he would still have helped the boy since it served his best interests to have him in office instead of Alrik. But now his motivations were personal. He found himself _caring_ about what happened to other mages, not just Anders and Bethany and Merrill. It was disconcerting, since he'd never done so before. If it got out, it would certainly ruin his reputation.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, handing the binoculars to Merrill. "Hello?"

"Hey." It was Anders.

Despite himself, Hawke smiled, though quickly hid it. Merrill was looking at him curiously. "Hey. What's up?"

"Are you busy?"

"Yes and no," Hawke said evasively. "Business stuff."

"Ah."

Hawke frowned. Something like… disappointment in Anders' tone? They'd done nothing but speak on the phone over the last few days, but Hawke thought they were working up to something. With Anders on house arrest it was difficult to see one another, especially since most of Hawke's business kept him out late at night. The only place they could theoretically meet up without others hanging over them was the clinic. And while Hawke wouldn't mind a quickie in the office, a part of him felt like Anders deserved more than that.

Maker, when did he become such a romantic? 

"Are you home or at work?" Hawke asked.

"Home. Alone."

Hawke shivered a little. It was the emphasis on the second word that made him wish he was in a similar state. If he wasn't on a job, he would've gotten to a bedroom as quickly as he could and stripped. Ever since that first night he'd been hoping for a repeat, never really knowing before how hot sex could be without someone there in the room. And Anders' voice did things to him. He glanced at Merrill, who peeked up curiously, and pulled the phone away from his ear for a second.

"I'll be right back. Keep an eye out."

He slid from the car, ignoring the beeping that alerted him that the keys were still in the ignition, and stepped out.

"If you're busy," Anders said. "Justice is putting in extra hours and Nathaniel went to some political dinner. I'm a bit… lonely."

Hawke cursed silently at missed opportunities. To drive to Anders' brother's house now, maybe to fuck him in Justice's bed, that would be a sweet victory. He smirked at the thought. "You drive me insane, you know that?"

Anders laughed. "This… that's a good thing. I don't want to distract you though. When is your business going to be finished?"

Hawke glanced down the street at the viscount's estate. It was impossible to tell where Isabela was now, even with the binoculars, she moved like a shadow. His only reason for being there was to make sure she had an out, and to look after her.

"Soon, I think," Hawke said.

Isabela never took long, after all. She was a true professional.

"Come over after."

Hawke grinned. "Oh? In your brother's house?"

Anders seemed to know what he was thinking. "We're not going to do anything that'll make him angrier with you than he already is. I… I miss watching movies with you."

_Cuddling,_ Hawke thought. He was being used not for a late night booty call, but a late night cuddling call. The crazy thing was that he found he didn't care. In fact, watching a movie, arm around Anders, Ser Pounce-a-lot in his lap purring sounded like the perfect reward for a job well done.

"I'll be over right after. You sure the house is ours?"

"Justice will be out all night, and Nate seemed pretty adamant about a thorough dinner. If… even if he does come home, he won't tell Justice."

"Hm." Hawke didn't care for Nathaniel Howe at all. He hoped at least the man's loyalties toward Anders were true. "House arrest is a pain."

Anders laughed. "Really? Hadn't noticed."

Hawke grinned. "So… where are you going after?"

"Sorry?"

"After you get off house arrest. Do you have a place to stay?"

"Oh. That. I… Nathaniel's going to get an apartment since he's staying in the Free Marches for a year on assignment. I thought I'd split rent with him."

Hawke's eyes narrowed. He trusted Anders, but he didn't like Nathaniel. "Come live with me."

"Hawke…"

"You'd rather move in with him?" Hawke was suddenly glad he was no longer in the car with Merrill, aware that his tone had taken on a decidedly jealous, almost pouting nature.

"It's not that I'd rather," Anders sighed. "I still want to maintain some semblance of independence. Moving in with a friend would provide that more than moving into your estate. Where, if I can remind you, you live with several other people. It's not exactly the most private…"

"More than you moving in with Nathaniel," Hawke growled. He couldn't believe he was having such a _domestic_ argument with him. Now. He glanced into the window of the SUV, tapping it and giving Merrill a questioning thumbs up. When she returned it enthusiastically, he turned back around. "At least my bedroom in the estate is private and people would leave us alone. Your friend seems more than willing to cockbl-" He stopped short of saying something he knew Anders would make him regret.

To his surprise, Anders laughed.

"Hawke," Anders sighed, though Hawke could hear the smile. "Fine. What do you propose as a solution?"

"I'll buy us a place," Hawke said at once.

"No."

"Did you have to use that tone?" Hawke asked.

"What tone?" came Isabela's voice, making Hawke jump. "Who are you talking to, sweet thing?"

"Is that Isabela?" Anders asked.

"No one," Hawke said to Isabela. "Nothing," he said quickly to Anders. "Just- Hey!"

Isabela took the phone from his hand, peeling off her gloves. "Let's go," she said to Hawke, and then addressing Anders, "Hello handsome… How did I know it was you? Because Hawke had a dopey look on his face."

Hawke growled, but got in the car, Merrill turning around in her seat to look at Isabela, who slid into the back, chatting to Anders.

"Oh, just business. Don't worry. Yes, I'm fine, but it is _so_ sweet of you to ask since your boyfriend is horribly callous."

Hawke glared at her in the rearview mirror as he started the car and drove off.

"Oh is that Anders?" Merrill asked. "I wanted to talk to him about his stay in the Gallows. I've never been inside a prison before."

"Maybe later, Kitten," Isabela said with a wink. "Hm? Oh Merrill says hello. Yes. Oh we're so happy you two have made up. Even if you hadn't I was thinking about inviting you to the Pearl for a night out."

Hawke sighed, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to get his phone back until he dropped them off.

_At least I can go see him now,_ he thought. _And convince him to change his mind about moving…_

Pleased that the job had gone smoothly, he drove them back to the Pearl.


	25. Chapter 25

Anders tried not to spring from the couch when the doorbell rang. He'd changed into a nice pair of jeans and a t-shirt. This wasn't a date, after all. But if it wasn't, why was he so nervous? He wiped his palms against the denim and opened the door. Hawke stood there, red rose in hand, leaning against the doorjamb, looking for all the world like a character out of a romance movie. Anders thought he was doing it just to try to seduce him. And Maker help him, it was working. He felt like a stupid schoolboy with a crush.

"Hey," Hawke said, casually offering him the rose.

Anders took it, and was pretty sure he was blushing. "You think you're so smooth."

"I am."

He was. And he was arrogant enough to know it. Damn the man. Anders grinned and stepped aside, letting him in. Hawke sauntered in, looking around.

"Nice décor your brother has," Hawke said. "Very uh. Domestic."

Anders shut the door, leaning against it as he brought the rose up to his lips. "Are we going to spend the evening making fun of my brother's interior decorating? Besides, most of this has to do with his girlfriend."

Hawke turned, eyebrow raised. "Girlfriend? How did someone like your brother get a girlfriend?"

"Stop," Anders said, dragging the petals over his cheek, smirking as Hawke's eyes followed. "Something you want?" He drew the rose over his jaw, down his neck.

"Yes. And you're making me jealous of a fucking flower."

Anders laughed. "I'd forgotten how direct you can be."

Hawke immediately moved into his personal space, hands on either side of the door. Anders' chest hitched, a spark of arousal igniting almost at once at the close proximity. He stared into those hard green eyes, lips parting in anticipation. But when Hawke leaned in, Ander turned his head. Hawke's nose brushed against his cheek, then moved to nuzzle his ear, and he closed his eyes. Hawke took another step forward, and Anders' breath went out in a rush. Pressed close against him like this again, antagonistic, conflicting feelings gone or buried for the moment, he was able to remember how things were before.

"I missed you," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I… think I hated you."

"At least it's past tense," Hawke muttered, nuzzling his neck now, kissing gently. He worked a thigh between Anders'. "What do you feel now?"

"Slightly confused," Anders said in the same quiet tone. "Being with you… compromises a certain morality. I know what you do. But yet… I'm not entirely… I don't… stop that, I can't think."

Hawke's kisses became bolder, more open, and he was licking a path down his neck to his shoulder now. But he didn't stop, and Anders wasn't sure if he was irritated or grateful. He tilted his chin up and let Hawke continue, warm mouth nipping, sucking. He was sure he would leave a mark.

"Maker damned collar," Hawke growled, nudging aside the fabric to kiss the skin under it. "Fucking deplorable they make you wear this shit. I'd tear it off if I could."

Anders squeezed his eyes shut at the statement. The collar was embarrassing, degrading. It was a mark stating that mages were lesser people, that they couldn't be trusted. At least no one at the clinic, patient or otherwise, had made a comment. But Anders saw it in their eyes. Pity. Disdain. Resentment. From Hawke it was anger. He didn't mind that so much, but it was still frustrating.

"Hawke," he gasped, when Hawke bit particularly hard. He tried not to thrust against him. "Can we sit?"

Hawke moved back and this time when he tried to kiss Anders, Anders allowed it, but kept it soft, chaste. He wrapped his arms around Hawke's waist and leaned against him once the kiss ended. A hand in his hair, removing the tie, and Anders laughed quietly against his shoulder.

"What?" Hawke murmured against his cheek.

"Nothing. You just… seem to like my hair," he said, as Hawke drew his fingers through it.

"I do," Hawke confirmed, and tossed the tie to Ser Pounce-a-lot, who had come out of hiding to inspect. 

"Don't encourage him!" Anders complained, hitting him lightly.

Hawke grabbed him by the wrists and dragged him to the couch, grinning. "What's going to happen when we have kids, hm? Arguments abound if we can't figure out what to do with the cat."

Anders tossed the rose on the coffee table and was about to join him on the couch, but stopped, knee on the cushion as Hawke laid back. "Kids?"

"…Too soon?"

"I just… never thought you'd be the type."

Hawke frowned a little, moving back and toeing off his shoes. "I never thought I was either. Business and all. But who knows. Things change. Right?"

Anders shook his head a little and straddled his waist. "Something to think about." He'd wanted kids, talked about it with Karl. Would it be possible with Hawke? Would Hawke try to keep them out of the business or would he want them in it? That thought was enough to put Anders off the idea for good. But Hawke was adamant about not getting Bethany involved. "Later," he added.

Hawke gripped his waist, hands sliding up slowly under his shirt. "Later," he agreed. "I thought you just wanted to cuddle."

Anders leaned over, picking up the remote and flicked the TV on, changing the channel until he found a random movie. "Making out during a movie counts as cuddling."

He smirked at Hawke's raised eyebrows and leaned down, pressing his hands against Hawke's chest, pushing him down to the cushions. Hawke went willingly, tucking one of the couch pillows behind his head. Anders grinned, laying overtop him, and kissed him softly.

"Maker," Hawke breathed when Anders pulled back. "You're gorgeous."

Anders chuckled. "I am not. I bet I look like hell. I lost so much weight in prison."

"Skinny can be sexy," Hawke said, pulling his shirt up a little, running his hands up underneath the fabric.

Anders purred and arched into the touch before lowering his hips, grinding slowly against Hawke. Hawke groaned, hands sliding down, gripping his backside through the jeans.

"Did… you have sex with anyone else while I was in the Gallows?" Anders asked, and regretted it almost the second it passed his lips. "Never mind," he said quickly.

Hawke frowned, one hand coming up to tuck a lock of hair behind Anders' ear. "No," he said.

The sincerity in his voice tugged at Anders' heartstrings. He kissed him gently. "You could have."

"I know. Didn't want to. Only want you."

Anders sighed, laying his head on Hawke's chest. "Sometimes you can be unbearably sweet."

"Thanks?" Hawke asked, sounding confused. "Contrary to what seems to be very popular belief, I'm capable of keeping it in my pants."

"I…" Anders hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him what happened between himself and Nathaniel. It hadn't meant anything, even if he'd entertained the idea, though it hadn't been for long. "Nathaniel kissed me. The first night I got out."

The hand that was slowly rubbing his back stopped. Anders felt Hawke tense under him.

"You're angry."

Anders didn't want to look up, didn't want to see that in Hawke's eyes.

"It's…" Hawke sighed. "Not anger. Jealousy," he ground out. "You weren't… mine."

Anders looked up now, and what he saw nearly broke his heart. Not anger, sadness. He kissed him quickly. "He wanted to rekindle. I said no. Because of you. Because I'm in love with you."

Hawke's expression softened further. "Maker's balls," he laughed. "You're turning me into a sap."

"You did bring me a flower."

"Case in point," Hawke said, eyebrow raised. "So about Nathaniel…"

"Nothing's going on," Anders assured him. "I promise."

"Good. And about moving in…"

"Hawke," Anders whined slightly. "Can't we just watch the movie? Or make out?"

Hawke laughed. "You're starting to sound like me." His hands returned to Anders' back, inching up the t-shirt to run his fingertips over his skin. "What if we shared a place?"

"What do mean?"

"I mean we rent a house and you pay half. Of everything. Like you would've with Nathaniel."

Anders frowned. "But you already have a house."

Hawke rolled his eyes. "I have an _estate_."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Okay, an _estate_ ," he mimicked. "Why would you want another house?"

Hawke looked confused a moment. "To… be with you? In private? And not have you share a place with someone who might want to get in your pants?"

Anders grinned, wriggling against him a little. "And you don't?"

"Not what I meant," Hawke growled, hands moving down now, under Ander's jeans. He paused. "No boxers?"

"I might've been a little hopeful," Anders said, trying not to sound it, and then yelped as Hawke pinched his bottom.

"Say yes."

Anders kissed him gently. "You really mean it? Halves on everything? Furniture and bills too."

"Halves on everything," Hawke promised. "But you let me bring home dinner every night."

"Fine. But I can't afford anything expensive," Anders reminded him. "I'm still going to repay you for the student loans."

"I don't care if you give me a dollar a month for those," Hawke replied carefully. "But I don't want you stuck in another shithole in a crappy part of Lowtown."

Anders sighed. "We'll look after my house arrest is lifted. Promise me you won't sign a lease without me."

"I promise."

Anders slid off him and Hawke shifted so they could lie together on the couch, Hawke's arm around him. If getting a place together meant more nights like this one, Anders wouldn't care if they lived in a box on the side of the road.


	26. Chapter 26

Anders had only meant for them to watch a movie and then he'd planned to say good night to Hawke, even if his lack of undergarments was a bit of a hopeful, impulsive move. Halfway through the movie though, the plot of which Anders hadn't even been following, Hawke started to nuzzle and kiss the back of his neck. Anders sighed happily and arched into the touch as Hawke's hand snaked under his shirt. They didn't speak, the only sound Anders' quiet gasps as Hawke's fingers brushed a nipple, pinching harshly. Anders pushed back against him, his jeans feeling suddenly very restricting. He wished that they were back in his old apartment where they could retire to his bedroom. But even here, moving to the guest room wouldn't ensure their complete privacy.

He knew he should've told Hawke to stop, to go. That doing this here and now wasn't appropriate. But it was inevitable after the night they had on the phone. It was dangerous to go back down this path, but Anders was tired of fighting it. Even if Hawke had kept the truth from him regarding Karl's death, even if he was part of a dangerous business, he made Anders happy. And it had been a long time since he felt that way, content with someone the way he had been with Karl. And Hawke really didn't ask for much in return. He seemed to be happy with just being with Anders, showering him with affection, attention, gifts. Exasperating as he could be at times, Hawke was…

"Amazing," Anders breathed.

"Hm?" Hawke asked, making yet another mark on his neck.

"You."

"I know."

Anders laughed. "There's that modesty."

Hawke unbuttoned Anders' jeans. "You know. I had dreams about this."

"About making out on my brother's couch?"

"Your cock."

Anders shivered, nervous anticipation and arousal curling in his stomach as the muscles tightened. Hawke drew the zipper down so very slowly and Anders waited. A warm hand rested on his abdomen, fingertips just inside his waistband, brushing the curls of hair. Anders inched up a little, trying to get Hawke to move or touch him or _anything_. The bastard laughed.

"You said you had dreams about it," Anders hissed. "It's just a few inches away." And he was hard, needy.

"Maker but you're persistent."

"I was in jail. Have pity."

Hawke pressed a kiss below his ear then propped his head up on his hand looking down at Anders who glanced back, then had to close his eyes as Hawke's hand slid lower, encircling his cock. Nothing had ever felt so good. Impulsively, he reached down, pushing his jeans off his hips. Hawke chuckled.

"Eager."

Anders looked at him, eyes half-lidded. "It's maddening."

"What's that?" Hawke asked, stroking him slowly, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Mm. No privacy. I never thought I'd miss it so much." He thrust forward and back in time to Hawke's strokes, keeping the slow pace. "In… ah!"

Hawke swiped his thumb over the sensitive tip, then again, and Anders momentarily lost his train of thought.

"Go on," Hawke whispered, continuing his agonizingly slow pace.

"In the Gallows, you're always watched. And then I came right…mm… right here and… ah! Fuck, Garrett. Please… faster."

"Love it when you use my name," Hawke said, and stroked faster. "So you haven't had any time alone since before prison."

"Not… not really," Anders gasped, and pressed back against Hawke. He felt his erection through Hawke's pants, pressing against the small of his back and rubbed against it.

"Except when you called me that night."

"Yes."

Hawke kissed his neck, then drew his earlobe between his teeth, nipping, eliciting a yelp from Anders.

"When you called me tonight and I was on a job," Hawke muttered, sitting up just a bit to kiss his cheek. "I almost kicked Merrill out of the car so I could jerk off to your voice in private."

"Oh…" Anders breathed.

He tilted his face toward Hawke and kissed him, open-mouthed, tongue out and meeting Hawke's lazily. Hawke allowed him to control the pace for only a moment before slipping out from behind him and quickly straddling his thighs. Anders gasped, eyes opening as Hawke sat up a little.

"Garrett?"

Hawke smirked. "I hate what you do to me," he said, though Anders knew he didn't mean it in that way. He continued stroking him, other hand pinning his hips to the couch. "You're so… fucking _good_ , Anders. You're the best thing in my life."

Anders looked away from the intensity of Hawke's gaze. The juxtaposition of words and the strong, warm hand stroking him off was too much. Hawke reached up with his free hand, turning his face back to him.

"I mean it," Hawke said, lightly gripping his chin. "I would do anything for you."

"Hawke, I…"

Hawke slid back and leaned down, Anders crying out as Hawke took the head of his cock between warm lips. Anders reached up behind him, nails digging into the arm of the couch as Hawke lowered his head, stopping only when his mouth met his hand. Anders let out a breath, whimpering as he felt Hawke's tongue flick the underside of his shaft, and cried out when he pulled back, sucking hard.

"Again," he begged breathlessly. "And with your hand too – oh Maker, _yes_ ," he gasped as Hawke did it again and again.

He tried not to thrust his hips up, feet pressed against one arm of the sofa while his fingers gripped the other.

"Garrett," he choked out. "Oh… oh yes…"

He dissolved into whimpering pants, head tilted back as Hawke brought him to the brink only to stop and slow, leaving him begging again.

"Please!" he cried out, looking down.

The bastard was _smirking_ at him. But before Anders could rebuke him, Hawke had descended again. He was caught on the edge of bliss, however he didn't miss the sound of the key in the door. A jolt of panic shot through him.

"Hawke!" he hissed, and reached down to grab Hawke's head.

Hawke must've heard it too, and he sped up, smacking Anders' hands away.

_I'm going to fucking kill him,_ Anders thought, too close to stop now.

As the door opened, he came with a strangled cry, panting and slightly sweaty as Hawke swallowed. Anders covered his face momentarily before shoving Hawke away, sitting up and hastily rearranging his jeans before looking over.

Nathaniel stood in the doorway, looking ashen faced. Anders was about to issue an apology, like some teenager whose parent caught him fooling around on a school night, but something in Nathaniel's expression made him stop.

"Nate?" he asked, carefully zipping his pants and standing, a bit shakily. He reached out, gripping Hawke's shoulder. "What happened?"

"I just came from the viscount's estate," he said hollowly. "I was going for drinks with Saemus after the dinner and… Anders, the viscount's been murdered."


	27. Chapter 27

Anders nearly tripped on his feet as he crossed the living room to Nathaniel. He gripped his arm tightly. "What?" He frowned. He couldn't have heard correctly. "Did you say-"

"Kirkwall's viscount is dead. I… need to sit."

Hawke watched Anders help Nathaniel into the kitchen. Sitting on the couch still he thought briefly about leaving. He didn't care for Nathaniel, nor did he really want to sit around and talk about the job Isabela had just performed. But if he left, he'd have to explain it later to Anders. At least here Anders couldn't ask him directly about it. Would he lie? He should, if only to keep him safe. Any why the hell did Saemus have to take Nathaniel home with him? That wasn't part of the plan, was it? He couldn't remember Isabela telling him to do that. He had half a mind to call Saemus right now to tell him off. But he wouldn't. He was likely surrounded by police right now.

Isabela and Merrill would be in the clear, and if he stayed now he could use Anders as an alibi should anyone come knocking and asking _him_ questions. As much as he had a desire to leave, it was in his best interests to stay. So adjusting himself discreetly as he was still hard, and swallowing, tasting Anders on his lips, he followed them into the kitchen. Anders was getting Nathaniel a beer and settled next to him. Feeling uncomfortably like an outsider, Hawke hovered in the doorway and listened.

Nathaniel was shaking his head. "Dumar had stayed home; Saemus said he wasn't feeling well. I didn't want to intrude, but he thought a quick introduction would be beneficial."

_Did he?_ Hawke thought, itching now more than ever to talk to Saemus to find out just what he was thinking. He'd call Isabela first, once he was home.

"We walked upstairs to his study and when he knocked, there was no answer. He opened the door… Anders, the man's throat was slit. Who would do such a thing?" Nathaniel sipped his beer which, Hawke noticed, was shaking a bit. "We called the police. Your brother's there now."

_Oh good,_ Hawke thought bitterly. That was all he needed. But then he supposed it was logical that every cop would be on the case, whether it was their district or not. Aveline surely would've gotten involved. But she would've been a boon to him where Justice… Justice was just a pain in his ass twice over.

Anders was gently rubbing Nathaniel's back when he finally looked up. "Hawke, did you want to sit?"

Nathaniel frowned and looked up, as if seeing Hawke for the first time. "What are you doing here?"

Hawke crossed his arms and leaned against the archway. "Pretty touchy considering it's not even your house."

"I highly doubt Justice would want someone like you-"

"Someone like me?" Hawke asked incredulously. "Listen, shithead-"

"Hey!" Anders said, half-rising. "Please, can we just… Nathaniel, Hawke's here at my invitation. Hawke, can you please calm down?"

Hawke frowned. Had it been anyone but Anders he might have snapped back. Maybe thrown a threat or two. "Look _Nathaniel_ ," he spat, "you know shit all about me so don't pretend that you do. I'm at least extending you that courtesy."

"Says the man who just called me a 'shithead'," Nathaniel replied acidly.

"Please," Anders said again earnestly. "Nate, look. I know you don't… don't approve, but we're…" He looked up at Hawke, almost for help or guidance.

"Back together," Hawke provided.

Nathaniel's eyes snapped immediately to Anders, who held his head up defiantly.

"Anders?"

"It's really none of your business, Nathaniel," he said lightly. "I… we can talk later."

_That_ made Hawke uncomfortable. What could Anders say to Nathaniel in private that he couldn't say in front of him? Anders certainly hadn't been shy a few minutes ago about being vocal when Hawke had his prick halfway down his throat. He also knew Anders wouldn't thank him for pointing that out.

"Are you embarrassed to tell him?" Hawke asked. "I'll tell him," he said with a shrug, and looked at Nathaniel. "I love him." It felt odd to admit it out loud to someone else. But Anders was his, for Andraste's sake. No one would take him from him again. "And if you have a problem with that, then you can take your ass back to Ferelden and quit making him feel like shit for it."

Nathaniel looked back to Anders.

"He's in my life now, Nate," Anders said gently.

Hawke watched as Nathaniel struggled with this information. Finally he nodded, tipping back his beer. Sighing, he leaned forward, arms resting on the table. After a minute, he looked up at Hawke.

"Don't hurt him."

Hawke scoffed. "Please. Spare me the, 'If you hurt him, I'll kill you,' speech. I've given so many of those to my sister's boyfriends. Trust me, even if I did hurt him – which I won't," he added, looking pointedly at Anders, "he can handle himself. Anders is all grown up now. He can dress himself and everything."

Anders scowled. "Don't be a dick, Hawke."

Hawke grinned. "Can I at least get a beer before we continue this discussion?"

Anders left Nathaniel's side to retrieve a beer, popping the top before handing it to him. Hawke took a long swig.

"I just don't understand who could've done this," Nathaniel said. "I'll have to call Alistair. He won't thank me for waking him, but it'll be better he knows before it hits the news."

Hawke wanted to suggest the templars, but knew it would be a bit too obvious. Putting ideas in their head, especially when Anders knew he'd been out on business directly before this would be foolish. He bristled when Anders put his hand back on Nathaniel's shoulder and began rubbing gently. Jealousy, he decided, was an ugly emotion. Still, he amused himself with a brief fantasy in which he threatened Nathaniel away from Anders, possibly even making the man wet himself in fear. He took another sip from his beer to hide the smile.

"Did you want to call him now then?" Anders asked. "I guess the police took your statement already."

Nathaniel nodded. "Justice was thorough enough." He sighed, rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger before pinching the bridge of his nose. "All things considered, this couldn't have come at a worse time. As upset as I am at a needless death, we'd been planning on bringing Dumar to our way of thinking. I'm not sure Saemus is up to the task of running a city."

"Doesn't matter," Hawke said. "It's the law. Passes from father to son until the line's broken. It's always been that way."

"Your Commander Meredith arrived not too long after the police were called," Nathaniel said, and it was Anders' turn to bristle, sitting back, crossing his arms. "She's apparently going to write to Orlais to have the law changed. She states someone more suited for the position should take over as interim."

Hawke frowned. The political can of worms was not something he'd expected to open. "And who's she putting forward as a name?" He'd have bet his entire estate and all his assets that it would be Alrik.

"She didn't say."

"Think your king can do anything about it in the meantime?" Hawke asked. Loath as he was to ask Nathaniel for a favor, he could pretend it was for the city's own good instead of any personal agenda of his.

"I'll see what Alistair has to say," Nathaniel said, taking his phone from his pocket. "In the meantime, our best chance is, unfortunately, a twenty-one year old boy whose father was just found murdered."

"Saemus will rise to the occasion," Hawke said. "He's tougher than he looks."

Nathaniel frowned, standing, looking at him. "You know him?"

"I uh… was responsible for a search and rescue a few years ago when he was kidnapped."

There was a brief flicker across Nathaniel's face; he seemed almost reluctantly impressed. "Here I thought you were just an entrepreneur," he said, though his tone implied he knew the less than legal aspects of Hawke's business.

"I have my fingers in a lot of things," Hawke said evenly.

"Quite." Nathaniel turned to Anders. "I'll be upstairs."

Anders nodded and watched him go before turning to Hawke. "This is horrible."

"It could be worse," Hawke said, reaching over, taking his hand. He pulled firmly until Anders left his seat and moved around the table. "They could've gotten Saemus too. Or hurt your friend. So few people care what happens to immigrants in this city," he said carefully, and tugged Anders into his lap.

Anders wrapped his arms around his shoulders, sighing. He pressed his forehead to Hawke's. "That's true."

Hawke reached up, finger crooked under his chin as he kissed him. His other hand snaked around Anders' back, reaching up under his t-shirt. Anders pulled back.

"I'm sorry. It was bad timing," he said, wincing.

"You couldn't have known the viscount would've turned up dead," Hawke replied. It was another reason he'd have words with Saemus. Not that he minded sucking Anders' cock, not at all. But reciprocation would have been nice. And had the night not been ruined by the abrupt announcement of the murder, Anders' lips would be around his prick right now.

"I know. Next time though? I think I should go sit with him. I'll call you tomorrow. I'll be at the clinic."

"I'll drop by."

Anders smiled. "I'd like that. You can bring me more coffee."

Hawke laughed. "Oh. Can I?" he asked, bringing him down for another kiss.

One hand wrapped around his waist, the other gripping his thigh, Hawke held him close. Anders tried to pull back but Hawke held him there, tongue thrusting past his lips. Anders groaned, and Hawke smirked mentally as the hand on Anders' thigh moved up, fingers bumping against the crotch of his jeans now. Anders bit his lip.

"Ow," Hawke growled.

"You're going to get me worked up again."

"That's the point."

"Hawke," Anders said exasperatedly.

"I thought maybe-"

"What the **hell** are you doing in my house?"

Neither had heard the front door open, but they both looked over quickly. Justice was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking livid.


	28. Chapter 28

Anders was off Hawke's lap in a second, intercepting Justice as Hawke stood slowly. The last real confrontation he'd had with Justice and he'd ended up with a couple stitches in his head. He didn't know if he could take Justice in a fair fight, the man was tall like Anders but also built like a truck. Hawke carefully backed away, knowing when and where to pick his fights. Justice, however, had grabbed Anders by the shoulders.

"Justice, wait! Let me explain, Justice!"

Hawke winced as Justice shoved his brother aside and came at him full force. He tripped over the chair, arm banging painfully on the table as he landed hard on the floor. Justice yanked the chair aside and reached down, pulling Hawke up by the collar of his shirt and Hawke had a quick flashback to the fight in the precinct before a fist connected with his face.

"STOP!" Anders cried, grabbing his brother around the neck and pulling somewhat ineffectually.

Hawke, slightly dazed, managed to put a hand up, and suddenly they were grappling on the tiles, Justice straddling his waist as he tried to get in another hit.

"Stop!" Hawke managed. "You… fucking psycho!"

Nathaniel must've heard the commotion because a moment later he appeared, helping Anders to pull Justice off him.

"Get out of my house!" Justice bellowed. "Murderer! CRIMINAL!"

Hawke would've laughed if his face wasn't hurting so badly. There were a few scratches on his forearms though they didn't appear to be bleeding.

"Justice!" Anders shouted. "Stop!" He pushed him back with Nathaniel's help into the living room.

Hawke, alone in the kitchen now, lip bleeding, sat up slowly. "So much for a blowjob," he muttered, and picked himself up off the floor. He took three long swallows of beer, nearly finishing the bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tentatively looked into the living room.

Both Anders and Nathaniel were standing in front of Justice, trying to talk him down. Justice's head snapped up, blue eyes burning icily into Hawke's.

"Get out," he snarled.

"Gladly," Hawke said. "Just gotta get my shoes."

Justice watched as he edged around the room toward the couch. Hawke pulled his boots on, lacing them up. He turned to look pointedly at the rose on the coffee table, feeling a certain bit of glee as Justice followed his gaze. The glare, if it was possible, seemed to deepen.

"I'll walk you out," Anders said quietly.

"No," Justice said, grabbing his arm as Anders made to go. "He can see the front door from here."

"Justice," Anders said, leveling his eyes at his brother. "I'm not doing this with you. Look. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have invited him-"

"You're right," Justice seethed. "What in the name of Andraste were you thinking, Anders? What's going on? I thought you were past this nonsense."

"Nonsense?" Hawke asked, arms folded. "You do realize your brother's a grown man. He can date whoever the hell he wants."

"I thought I told you to get out," Justice growled. "Before I have you arrested."

"For what? Sucking your brother's cock without your signed permission?"

Nathaniel's eyes went wide even as Anders closed his, a pained expression on his face. The cocky smirk left Hawke's lips as Justice charged him again. He was ready for him this time though and ducked the punch, delivering his own into Justice's stomach. The man bent double but shoved him back, and Hawke stumbled, losing his footing. Justice stood and punched him again. Hawke felt his jaw crack this time and spun with the force, right into the front windows near the door. He felt the stinging slice of the glass shards as they cut into his face and hands.

"GARRETT!"

Hawke stumbled back, eyes shut as blood streamed down his face. There was scrabbling, and he heard Nathaniel yelling. Anders drew him close, and though he couldn't see him, he could feel his lover's hands on his shoulders.

"Oh, oh Maker, oh fuck," Anders whispered.

"'sit bad?" Hawke muttered, jaw screaming in agony.

"No, no, I don't think so. It's just… head wounds. Hang on. I'll be right back. Don't open your eyes." Anders squeezed his hand and left.

Hawke lifted a hand to his forehead where he felt the worst of the pain and swore as his fingers sliced on a shard of glass. "Oh fuck! Anders, is there…" He grunted in pain and Anders was next to him again. "Glass. In my head."

"Quite a bit of it," Anders confirmed. "Shit. Nate!"

A shuffling of feet. "What do you need?"

"He's got to go to the hospital," Anders said. "He'll need stitches and… Hawke, yes."

Hawke had started to shake his head. "No hospitals. Bethany," he grumbled, and reached his less injured hand into his pocket for his phone. "Call her. Fenris. Get them to pick me up."

"I… I understand," Anders said, taking the phone. "Try not to touch it. Nate, can you get me the first aid kit from the bathroom? Justice, no. Just… go away."

Hawke listened to the sounds of footsteps, the blood wet and sticky over his face. Then Anders' calm voice.

"Bethany. I'm sorry if I woke you." He paused. "Your brother's hurt – no, he'll be fine. But he might need stitches. He won't go to the hospital. He – okay. Hang on." He pressed the phone to Hawke's hand. "She wants to talk to you."

"Fuck." Hawke lifted it to his ear, fingers gingerly holding it to avoid getting blood on it. "Bethy-"

"Garrett Malcolm Hawke, you get your ass to a hospital right now or I'm going to wake Fenris and we'll bodily drag you to one. Got it?"

"Yes, mom," he sighed. "I wanted to avoid-"

"Was it to do with business?"

"No. Anders' brother put me through a window."

There was a pause. "Did you deserve it?"

Hawke frowned, jaw aching horribly. "What?"

"Did you hurt Anders?"

"Oh. No." He thought that's what she'd meant. It was nice to know she was on his side still.

"Do you want me to kick his brother's ass for you?"

Hawke laughed, then cut off. "Ow. Ow! Jaw's broken, I think."

"If you're still talking, it's probably not broken, just bruised." She sighed. "Go to the hospital and get stitches, file a report, and I'll take care of the rest."

A report? It hadn't even occurred to Hawke. But maybe if he did that, the next time Justice tried to lay a hand on him, he could have the asshole kicked out of the precinct. No one with an anger management problem should be head of a department anyway.

"Right. Okay."

"Put Anders back on."

Hawke held out the phone blindly. Anders took it from him.

"Here," said Nathaniel, and Hawke felt him kneel down next to him.

"I'll take care of him, Bethany, I promise," Anders said. "I… I can't, I'm on house arrest. I'll have my friend drive him. Okay. Or… or that. You have the address? See you soon."

"Well?" Hawke asked.

"She's bringing Fenris here to get you and your car and take you to the hospital. I would have gone, but…"

"S'okay," Hawke muttered, wincing as Anders started to clean him up.

He grunted loudly when Anders removed the glass from his face, one piece at a time with tweezers. Another set of hands was pressing a damp, cool towel to his head.

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"Don't mention it," Nathaniel said emphatically.

Hawke was at least a little thankful that Nathaniel wasn't the type of person to rub this in his face. Maye he wasn't a complete asshole after all. Anders wiped away the blood, unsealing his eyes and Hawke blinked them open. There was blood on the broken shards of glass still in the window frame and quite a lot of it down the wall and carpet. He looked down at his shirt and pants.

"Well. Fuck."

Anders laughed. "It actually looks worse than it is now that you're all cleaned up. A big gash on the forehead that'll need stitches and a few more on your cheeks. Butterfly bandages will do. At least you'll look rugged and manly."

Hawke scoffed, wincing. "I already do." He sighed as they helped him to his feet and Anders brushed the glass carefully from his pants and shirt before steering him to sit on the arm of the couch. He took the towel from Nathaniel and held it to his head.

Nathaniel left to fetch a few things to clean up the glass while Anders stood next to Hawke, frowning as he ran his fingers gently through his hair. Hawke wrapped an arm around his waist and held him tightly.

"I'm sorry," Anders said.

"Wasn't your fault," Hawke replied. "Twice now your brother's kicked my ass hard enough to give me stitches. You'd think I'd learn to keep my mouth shut."

"You didn't really need to goad him like that," Anders agreed.

"Yes I did. It was worth it. Besides, you get to take care of me now."

"I would," Anders sighed. "If I could walk more than fifty feet from the front door without setting off the alarm."

"It's okay," Hawke assured him, and leaned up for a kiss, which Anders gave very tentatively. It still hurt. "Bethany will fix it."

"Good. Still get stitches though, just in case she can't."

"She told me to file a report."

Anders hesitated. "Maybe… maybe you should."

"Really?" Hawke would've raised his eyebrows at that but the towel pressed to his forehead prevented it.

Nathaniel came back and Anders helped him to gather the glass, throwing the larger shards out carefully and sweeping up the smaller.

"I'll vacuum in a bit," Anders said. "Thanks, Nate. Really."

Nathaniel nodded, carrying the bag, broom and dustpan, stopping to look at Hawke briefly before retreating to the kitchen. Anders didn't speak again until Nathaniel returned. 

"I'll be up after," he assured him.

"Right. Mr. Hawke," he said by way of farewell.

"Just 'Hawke' is fine," he said, lifting a hand.

Nathaniel nodded again and headed upstairs.

"He's not so bad," Hawke said finally. "Your brother will always been an asshole though."

Anders sighed. "He's… angrier lately. The stress of the department. I don't think he really expected this. And now with the viscount dead? It's a lot of crap on his plate. Doesn't excuse him putting you through a window, though."

"No, it really doesn't."

"I'll talk to him. Again."

"Don't bother. He's got it in his head what I am and he wants better for you. I guess I can see where he's coming from. Doesn't mean I like it. And I sure as hell won't be inviting him to Sunday dinner."

Anders laughed. "Okay. Fair enough. But still. File the report. If he gets word from higher up, I don't know. Maybe it'll help him cool off."

Hawke nodded. There was a knock on the front door and Anders answered it, immediately accosted by Bethany who hugged him quickly before going to Hawke.

"Oh Maker's breath, _Garrett_ ," she moaned. "You look like hell!"

"Thanks."

Fenris lingered in the doorway and Hawke stood, gently kissing Bethany on the forehead.

"Ready?"

Fenris nodded.

Hawke reached out, taking Anders' hand and pulling him close. He kissed him as deeply as his bruised jaw would allow him. "I'll come by the clinic tomorrow."

"Alright," Anders agreed.

Bethany gave him another hug. "Take care of yourself," she said, and Anders noticed her eyes flicked to the collar around his neck. She frowned. "Email me tomorrow."

"I will," he promised.

Hawke cupped his cheek, smirking. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart."

He turned and followed Fenris out, handing his keys to him. Fenris climbed into the Escalade while Hawke settled into Bethany's little VW bug. He watched Anders shut the door, and the shadow of him through the curtains as Bethany pulled onto the street.

Putting up with Justice, he decided, was worth it if it meant he could be with Anders.


	29. Chapter 29

Hawke barely listened to the speech, standing at the back of a very large crowd that gathered for the viscount's funeral. It was cold and grey, and he dodged umbrellas as people milled, trying to listen to Saemus talk. It was about 'finding hope in tragic times' and Hawke had to stifle a yawn, sunglasses hiding the dark circles under his eyes and detracting from the still-healing cuts on his face. Bethany had managed to take care of the worst of it, but he'd have scars. If Anders had been able to use his magic… well.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, the woman next to him giving him a dirty look as he backed up further. The police had blocked the street leading up to the city hall off, Saemus giving his speech at a podium set up at the top of the stairs near the door. He checked the screen before answering.

"Varric. You didn't want to come to the funeral? The speech is absolutely riveting."

"As if I don't have ten thousand others things to do. Most of them involving you."

"So do you have good news?" Hawke asked, free hand in his pocket as he moved down the street.

"Meredith's blocked, at least for now about putting a de facto viscount in. There's a lot of red tape and I'm pretty sure the ones paying into the Dumar family fund will have a few things to say. Templars aren't going to start a smear campaign so soon after his death so we got that going for us. Hopefully in the next day or two the kid'll take over the office and he'll be sworn in. He can't suggest it himself lest he look too eager. So let him play his role."

"Still pissed off that he brought Howe home to see dead daddy."

Varric sighed. "Yeah but he gave a good reason at least."

When Hawke had managed to ask why – under the guise of dropping by the office to offer condolences – Saemus explained that it was less suspicious if Nathaniel discovered the body with him. That way his alibi would be airtight. Hawke couldn't argue with the logic, even if he was irritated with the interruption. Then again, if Justice had come home to see Anders sucking him off, Hawke might've been worse off than just five stitches in his head.

"We have to head this thing off at the pass."

"Come again?"

"Alrik," Hawke said. "Look, it's not anything I want to discuss over the phone. But if he takes office, we have an issue."

"We?"

Hawke frowned. "You really want a templar running this city? Sure, fine. It's fucking personal. They treat mages like shit and I know that's got nothing to do with you. But you honestly think that half the shit Dumar's let slide when it comes to your business will fly with these people?"

Varric sighed. "You have a point. But getting your panties in a bunch won't help. What do you want to do?"

Hawke glanced around. He was far enough away from the crowd and the general noise of the city was cover enough. Still, he lowered his voice. "I want Alrik's head."

"Hawke."

"I'm fucking serious. I'd want Meredith and Petrice buried too if possible. But mostly right now, I want him, Varric. Bad."

"I'll see what I can do. But you're on your own for Meredith. Even my fingers don't reach that far. Alrik might be a small fish but the Commander? You can't fight city hall, Hawke."

"Ironic choice of words, considering I'm _at_ city hall."

"I said you can't fight it. Nothing about getting to it from the inside."

Hawke frowned. "The kid?"

"He owes you. By my estimation, he owes you a lot, especially once he signs that paper that makes him the most powerful man in the city. Which by proxy, makes him the most powerful man in the Free Marches – on paper," Varric stressed, when Hawke grunted. "So you tell him you want Petrice out. But do it by the books. Might take a bit longer, but it'll still prove a point, right?"

Hawke considered this. Alrik wasn't going to get away with what he did to Anders. Hawke would see to it. Petrice on the other hand deserved public humiliation. If Saemus could instate someone in the hospital who could bring her down from the inside, that would be best. She wouldn't be able to work again. He wanted to see her suffer. He was almost completely positive that she knew what went on in her hospital and allowed it. And maybe with a little doing, he could get Anders his job back. Or at least convince him to reapply once Alrik and Petrice were gone.

"It's not a bad idea," he agreed.

"People are going to be scrambling for interviews and meetings with him. Make sure you're on the short list."

"I will."

"You need anything else?"

"A location on Alrik. Surveillance. And see who's available. With Carver locked up, I have Fenris and Isabela."

"Might be enough," Varric mused. "Want me to call Vael down from Starkhaven?"

"Maker, no," Hawke said. He'd had enough of him the last time. "I just got Bethany back. You think I want him down here so he can take her away again so soon?"

"All little birds must fly the nest at some point, Hawke."

"Yeah, I'll remember you said that in ten years when Bianca's dating."

"Bianca's never dating, what are you talking about?"

Hawke snorted. "Right. Just get me a schedule."

"On it."

Varric hung up and Hawke replaced the phone in his pocket. He was about to return to Saemus's grief speech when something caught his eye. A small bus painted with Kirkwall's flag on the side pulled into the street and parked. He watched with interest as ten people got out, dressed in orange prison uniforms. Interested, he skirted past the barriers blocking the street from cars and approached slowly.

"Oh no shit," he grinned. "Carver!"

Carver, who was just getting his cuffs taken off by a uniformed guard, looked up. So did the guard.

"Oh hey, Mr. Hawke," the guard said, waving, smiling.

Hawke nodded to him, not remembering the man's name, but recognizing his face. Someone who benefitted from the extra charities Hawke's funds funneled into for tax purposes. Carver, however, scowled.

"How's prison?" Hawke asked cheerily. "Did you drop the soap?"

"Haha," Carver said dryly. "You're the one who takes it up the ass, remember?"

"Not yet," Hawke replied. "Circumstances haven't been optimal."

Carver gagged. "What happened to your face? Other than the usual, I mean."

"Prison's turned you into a comedian. I went through a window, what's your excuse?"

"You're still an asshole, nice to know."

The guard shifted. "We really have to get started, Mr. Hawke. I'm sorry."

"Sure, sure, no problem. What are you doing with them anyway?" Hawke asked, then realized as another guard handed out trash bags and scoops.

"Stop laughing!" Carver snapped, as Hawke bent nearly double.

"Oh. Oh this is good," Hawke said, and took out his phone again, snapping a picture as Carver flipped him off. He took out an old receipt from his pocket, balled it up, and tossed it at him. "Have fun, brother."

He ignored Carver's insults as he laughed his way back to city hall, sending the picture to the others to share in the joke.


	30. Chapter 30

"Shh!" Anders warned him.

Hawke felt like a teenager again, sneaking into the back door of the clinic. The lights in the back room were off, and he felt Anders' hand slip into his, entwining their fingers as he led him through.

"Selby turned this into an on-call room when it was busier and she had more doctors," Anders whispered, and they stepped inside a space no bigger than a modest walk in closet. It had a single bed with an iron frame, but the boxes that had previously occupied the space were piled just outside the door. "Now it's just storage. Or was. For the night, it's ours."

Anders had ended up telling Justice he was working on one of his nights off. Jowan, who owed him so many favors, promised to cover for him if Justice did come to call. It was risky on many levels. If Justice found out, he'd be livid both with his brother and with Hawke. And there was a chance that someone would find out that Anders was technically breaking his house arrest. But it was the first day he'd been out of prison without the collar, and he wanted to celebrate.

"Candles and rose petals?" Hawke whispered, slipping inside with him.

Anders shut the door, lighting the candles on the box with a spark of magic. It was cozy, Hawke had to admit, even if it was more or less a closet and a little musty. Anders smiled, pressing his hands against Hawke's chest. He looked happier than he'd had since before prison. Hawke took him around the waist.

"I wanted to make it special."

"Sweetheart, anywhere with you is special," Hawke said, a bit sappily, but Anders seemed to like it, kissing him enthusiastically.

They stood for a moment, wrapped around one another, Anders' fingers running through his hair, ruffling it. He pushed him back against the wall, and Hawke let him, enjoying the feeling of Anders in his arms.

"Maker's breath," he sighed, when Anders broke the kiss.

"What is it?" Anders asked, hands moving back down to push Hawke's coat off his shoulders.

"I had it all planned. I wanted us to get a place together. I'd carry you over the threshold or some shit."

"You still can," Anders said eagerly. "Just… tonight I want to celebrate. And we can't do that at Justice's."

"Too bad we couldn't have petitioned to have your home address changed to the estate."

"Not enough processing time," Anders said, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, lips caressing every inch of exposed flesh. "And 'Sunday Dinner' doesn't count as one of their exceptions to the house arrest. It's only another month and a half."

"You seem pretty fine with that," Hawke noted, keeping his hands loosely at Anders' waist, letting him undress him.

"I never was very social anyway," Anders quipped. "But that Maker damned collar," he said viciously. "You have no idea, Hawke."

"No," Hawke agreed.

But he did know that Anders was ecstatic. He'd called early that morning, woke him just after eight, barely apologizing for the excited babble. Hawke managed to discern through the ramblings and his own haze of barely consciousness that the collar was coming off that day.

"It's like opening your eyes," Anders whispered. "And realizing you can see all the colors of the world again."

His lips found a nipple and Hawke groaned, shifting so Anders could pull his shirt off and toss it aside. Deft fingers were already working his belt, and Hawke grinned. Apparently getting his magic back made Anders incredibly horny. Not that he was complaining. Anders knelt, looking up.

"It's like hearing music for the first time," he said, unlacing Hawke's boots, cupping his calf as he pulled one off, then the other. He leaned up, nuzzling him through his pants. "Everything is heightened. Almost like a drug."

Hawke reached down and ran his fingers through Anders' hair, which was already loose. "It sounds marvelous."

Anders hugged him, cheek pressed to his hip briefly before he pulled back, unbuttoning his slacks and leaning forward to tug the zipper down with his teeth.

Hawke laughed shakily. "Damn, Anders."

"I can _feel_ again, Hawke. Not that I couldn't before, but it's like missing a limb that's suddenly replaced."

"If it makes you like this, I'm totally fine with that."

He groaned as Anders nuzzled his cock through his boxers. A warm mouth covered him and Anders hummed, smiling. Hawke threaded his fingers in his hair and gripped as he slowly grew hard. It didn't take much with Anders.

"So," he breathed, keeping his eyes on him, "you're planning on sucking me off here?"

"Better," Anders said, pulling back. He curled his fingertips around the elastic of his boxers and pulled down, taking his pants with him. "Step out. Socks too."

"Headline tomorrow, 'Entrepreneur Garrett Hawke Found Naked in Closet'."

Anders grinned up at him. "The byline would read, 'He died a happy death, fucking his boyfriend into the mattress'."

Hawke looked at him in surprise. "Seriously?"

Anders, still grinning, nodded enthusiastically. "I want you."

"Oh… Fuck. Well. I mean, I had plans for it. Like I said, threshold and all."

Anders licked up the underside of his cock before taking the tip into his mouth. His hands moved up Hawke's thighs, stopping to grip his hips. He sucked gently, wide, amber eyes looking up at him, falsely innocent.

"Here's good though," Hawke managed.

He closed his eyes, head back against the wall as Anders teased him, gentle licks and kisses before moving down to nose at his sac, taking it in his mouth, sucking gently. Hawke sighed, tugging on his hair. He thought about what it would be like to be buried inside him, wondering how tight he'd be, how good it would feel. It was a dream he'd had before, though thankfully he was over his sticky sheets phase a long time ago. Otherwise Orana would've had triple loads of laundry to compete with.

"If you're really sure," Hawke said, groaning as Anders pulled back.

Anders stood up, pulling his scrubs top off, tossing it aside. Hawke watched him slip out of the simple tennis shoes, lean down to remove his socks, and without preamble, slide the scrubs bottoms off his hips. Again, he wore no underwear, and Hawke swallowed, nodding.

"Okay. You're sure."

Anders took his hand, taking the two steps back to the bed, pulling him with. He sat down, laying back, settling on the narrow frame. "I came prepared."

Hawke, one knee on the mattress, watched him pull out a tube of lubrication from under the bed.

"I took the liberty of checking your medical records," Anders said, a bit shyly. "You had tests done recently."

Hawke shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Wishful thinking, I guess, for when you got out."

"I'm glad you did. You can fuck me without a condom. Best part about monogamy."

_That _sounded good to Hawke. He settled on his knees as Anders drew his own back.__

__"I…ah. You know. I know the theory," Hawke said, a little unsure. "I don't want to hurt you or anything."_ _

__Anders smiled and flipped open the cap. "Hand," he ordered._ _

__Hawke offered it, and watched Anders squeezed some into his palm._ _

__"That's for you," Anders said matter-of-factly. "And this is for me," he said, squeezing some onto his fingers._ _

__Hawke watched, slightly wide-eyed and opened mouthed as Anders brought his knees back further. One hand held his legs back while his lubricated fingers found his hole. He pressed his index finger inside and sighed._ _

__"It's been a while," he admitted. "Might need some help."_ _

__"I…"_ _

__"Garrett," Anders purred, and he slid his finger in further. "You're drooling, love."_ _

__"Sure," Hawke said quickly._ _

__He smoothed the lubricant over his fingers, the faint scent of vanilla reaching him as it warmed up. Hesitating, he pressed a finger to join Anders'._ _

__"Ngh," Anders managed. "Keep going. I'll tell you if I need to stop."_ _

__Anders grabbed the flimsy pillow, folding it in half and lifted his hips. His ankles came to rest gently on Hawke's shoulders and together they stretched him._ _

__"Maker," Hawke breathed, someone reverently. "I could come just looking at you. You're so fucking gorgeous."_ _

__Anders blushed. "I'm not…"_ _

__"You are," Hawke said adamantly. He wrapped an arm around one of Anders' legs, reaching down to stroke him slowly as he pressed two fingers inside him._ _

__"I never… think about that," Anders breathed._ _

__"How flexible are you?" Hawke asked._ _

__"I… enough?" Anders guessed._ _

__Hawke leaned over, bending Anders in half, kissing him, taking him by surprise. His tongue thrust into his mouth as his fingers did the same to his hole, mimicking. Anders gasped, hands gripping Hawke's shoulders now, fingernails biting into the skin._ _

__"Please," Anders whispered against his lips when Hawke pulled back. "I want to feel you in me."_ _

__He fumbled for the lubricant and poured more into Hawke's palm. Hawke enjoyed the warmth on his cock, stroking himself twice, making sure he was coated._ _

__"I don't want to hurt you," he said, leaning back, pulling Anders closer to him._ _

__"It will, but it's okay. You're kind of big, after all," he added, grinning as Hawke preened. "Go slow."_ _

__Hawke marveled for a moment, stroking Anders' thigh. Sex had never been like this, quiet and slow. The women he'd been with were always quick fucks. Even Isabela only ever was a 'slam me against the wall and fuck me' or ' get on the bed so I can ride you.'_ _

__"Garrett?"_ _

__"I'm fine," he assured him, and steadied himself._ _

__There was a bit of resistance, and he winced when Anders' expression fluttered briefly into pain before relaxing again. Hawke swallowed. He'd done this once before with Isabela, but she'd done all the work. He just laid back and let it happen. This was different. This was intimate as hell._ _

__He must've made a noise because Anders looked up at him, frowning._ _

__"Are you sure you're…"_ _

__Hawke nodded. "It's just…"_ _

__"What?"_ _

__"I love you so much."_ _

__Anders' eyes were glassy in the candlelight. "I love you too."_ _

__Hawke pushed forward slowly, sighing at the silken warmth encircling him. He held Anders around the thighs, smiling as his lover's hands gripped his own._ _

__"All right?" Hawke asked, once he was all the way inside._ _

__"Yeah," Anders managed. "Just give me a minute."_ _

__Hawke groaned, feeling him tighten around him. "For Andraste's sake," he hissed. "Fuck, you are _tight_."_ _

__Anders laughed, and Hawke felt it in his groin. He took Hawke's hand and pulled it down, wrapping his fingers around his cock._ _

__"Touch me while you fuck me," he ordered._ _

__"Ready?"_ _

__Anders nodded quickly. "Yes. Wait. Kiss me."_ _

__Hawke smiled and obliged him, leaning over again to kiss him sweetly._ _

__"Okay," Anders said, pushing him back. "Fuck me."_ _

__It was an order Hawke was happy to follow. He held his hip with one hand, other stroking him, trying to time it to his rhythm. It took them a minute but soon Hawke was thrusting deep inside, slowly, enjoying the moans from his lover beneath him. Neither spoke, the sounds of flesh against flesh growing louder as Hawke moved faster. Anders reached back, hand hitting the wall, while the other wrapped around Hawke's on his cock._ _

__Anders whimpered, desperate, needy noises from the back of his throat. "Ye… sss," he managed._ _

__Hawke watched him close his eyes, lips parting. They rocked together slowly, Hawke thrusting into him, Anders arching up. Sweat formed on Anders' forehead as he fought to keep his eyes open. Hawke saw them roll back once or twice, and when he pushed in again, Anders' body tensed with pleasure. He let out a keening cry, cut off quickly as he bit his fist._ _

__"There," he whispered. "Just there again."_ _

__Hawke repeated the motion twice more, jolts of pleasure shooting from his groin to his spine, leaving his entire body tingling as Anders tightened deliciously around him._ _

__"Fuck," Anders breathed, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Keep… keep doing that."_ _

__"You're so beautiful," Hawke whispered. "Maker, Anders, I wish you could see yourself. You're close, right?"_ _

__Anders nodded frantically, calves pressing down on Hawke's shoulders. "Keep going. Just like that. Against that spot."_ _

__Hawke kept his pace, though he wanted to move faster. Right now it was about Anders, his pleasure, he wanted to see his face when he came. He wondered then how many women faked it with him, their loud exaggerated moans and screaming his name. It felt good for his ego, but he knew immediately he preferred this. Anders gasped, a strangled sort of cry and he tightened, balls drawn up, muscles flexing. Hawke breathed, feeling him tighten around him._ _

__"Garrett," he begged. "Oh fuck. Garrett. So good."_ _

__Hawke watched him thrust his hips forward instinctively, felt his hand grip his own, guiding him a bit faster. Saw the sweat on Anders' forehead as he watched him come, pearly fluid spilling over his hand and stomach. Hawke swallowed hard. Anders turned his head away, free hand coming up, covering his own face._ _

__"Maker," he breathed. "Oh… fuck."_ _

__"You're fucking gorgeous," Hawke said. "So fucking beautiful. Anders, baby. Let me fuck you."_ _

__Anders nodded, and cried out when Hawke moved faster. He paused._ _

__"S'fine," Anders said. "Didn't hurt. Go."_ _

__Hawke wasn't sure if he was lying, but he needed to move. He gripped Anders' thighs and thrust, the bed starting to creak now in protest. He knew he wouldn't last long, and looked to Anders._ _

__"Should I… where?"_ _

__"Come inside me if you want," Anders said, voice thick with lust._ _

__"Oh… ngh," Hawke managed, shutting his eyes tight as he thrust._ _

__With Anders squeezing around him, whispering to him, telling him to come, how big he was, how full he felt, Hawke didn't last long. He came, squeezing his eyes shut, gripping onto Anders' thighs._ _

__A moment later, Anders was pulling at his hands. "Hurts."_ _

__"Sorry," Hawke breathed, and let go. He watched Anders' skin turn white, then red. "Might've bruised."_ _

__"It's okay," Anders assured him._ _

__"I'm gonna…" He gestured to himself, to where their bodies met._ _

__Anders nodded and Hawke pulled out, his cock slowly softening. Anders leaned over a bit, rifling under the bed. He pulled out two small towels. Hawke took one, wiping the come from Anders' backside first._ _

__"You all right?" he asked. "You're quiet."_ _

__Anders laughed. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Better than all right. Fantastic, even."_ _

__Hawke smiled, relieved. "Same."_ _

__Anders took the other towel and wiped off his stomach, making a face as he tossed it on the floor. "I'm going to immediately soak in the tub when I get home. Come here," he said, legs sliding off his shoulders._ _

__Hawke gingerly cleaned himself off before tossing his towel on the floor as well. Anders shifted so Hawke could settle next to him, bare back pressed against the wall, arm around his waist. He nuzzled his neck, and Anders sighed happily._ _

__"It was romantic," Hawke said, feeling sleepy and sated now. "Creaky narrow bed and all."_ _

__Anders grinned. "I just… wanted to be with you. Just in case anything else happened. I didn't want to miss out."_ _

__Hawke frowned against his shoulder, kissing it briefly. "What do you think would happen?"_ _

__"Anything," Anders said, turning to look at him. He reached down and moved the pillow out from under him, sliding a leg between Hawke's. "I don't know. I just didn't want the opportunity to pass."_ _

__Hawke kissed him softly. "There will be many more opportunities in the future. In our own bed," he added pointedly._ _

__"Hey," Anders said, "at least you weren't on the bottom."_ _

__Hawke laughed, then stopped. "What's it like?"_ _

__"Oh. It's… hn. I don't know. It feels good. Like you're full but it's better than that. If you don't like it, I don't mind. It was my preference with K-" He stopped, frowning._ _

__Hawke took his hand, entwining his fingers. "If… you want to talk about him," he offered. He wasn't sure how he felt about Anders talking about him so soon after they made love._ _

___Made love?_ he thought._ _

___Yes,_ a voice in his head confirmed, and Hawke had to agree. It was more intimate than any previous coupling._ _

__"He was older than me. Almost twenty years," Anders said._ _

__"Cradle robbing," Hawke joked lightly, then regretted it._ _

__Anders took it in stride, shaking his head a little, smiling. "A lot of people thought that. Or that he seduced me or something. It took him a lot of convincing after the first time we were together. I think I wore him down."_ _

__Hawke laughed, shifting to his back, pulling Anders on top of him. Anders wriggled a bit, getting comfortable, letting out a happy sigh as Hawke rubbed his back._ _

__"He was older," he started again, "so he just took control. I was on top a few times, but we both liked it better the other way."_ _

__"I'm willing to try anything once," Hawke said offhandedly. "Or twice. But in a bigger, softer bed."_ _

__Anders grinned, hand moving from Hawke's side to his chest, fingers playing in the curls there. "Yes. We can't have your delicate features getting all marred by the uncomfortable mattress, can we?"_ _

__Hawke pinched his rear, grinning as Anders yelped._ _

__"Mm. As much as I want to lay here, uncomfortable bed and all," Hawke said._ _

__"We should go," Anders agreed._ _

__He kissed Hawke softly and slowly stood, stretching before bending down to retrieve his clothing._ _

__"Maker's breath," Hawke sighed._ _

__"Hm?" Anders turned, shaking out his scrubs bottoms and pulled them on._ _

__"You really are fucking gorgeous. I must be pretty awesome to deserve someone like you."_ _

__Anders laughed, throwing his shirt at him. "Get dressed, Hawke."_ _

__Grinning, Hawke obeyed._ _


	31. Chapter 31

Hawke paced impatiently in the back parking lot of the Pearl, no longer able to sit in the car and wait. His meeting with Saemus had gone well, the boy assuring him that he had a handle on the office. His advisor, a ruddy haired man named Bran who spoke with a posh accent and had little more than a passing disdain for Hawke, was handling a portion of the affairs. The funeral turnout was better than anyone could've hoped. It drove the sympathy vote and after a meeting of Kirkwall's elite, they decided that elections should be put off for another year. By then, Saemus would have the city eating from the palm of his hand. Hawke really should've given the boy more credit for his ruthlessness. As long as it didn't translate into Saemus trying to control Hawke, things would be fine.

He glanced at his watch, then to the car where Fenris was sitting quietly in the passenger seat. He could almost hear his father telling him to have patience. It wasn't as though Hawke was used to instant gratification. He understood the necessity of a slow burn. Setting up jobs properly, waiting on information usually from Varric. Even though he'd seen the advent of technology and understood the fast pace in which life could move and kept up with it without missing a beat, it was important, as Malcolm said, to wait.

But he really, really hated to do so.

"For Andraste's sake, woman!" he snapped when Isabela finally stepped out of the Employees Only door with Merrill in tow.

"You said nine-thirty, Hawke," Isabela said calmly. It's nine twenty-seven."

He pursed his lips and held the car door open for her. She rolled her eyes and slid in, Merrill getting in after. Hawke shut the door and got into the driver's side and pulled out.

"He's got the end of his shift at the hospital at ten, and then he heads to the convenience store for gas and an energy drink," Hawke said. "Then after he heads home where he lives alone. That's where we're going to hit him. Varric tells me the blueprints indicate a nice, roomy basement. We'll set up there. Supplies are in the trunk. Merrill?"

"Yes, Hawke?" she asked, perking up.

"You've already taken care of security."

"Oh yes I have," she assured him. "Once he disarms it, the whole system will shut down until I turn it back on."

"You're brilliant."

Merrill beamed.

"Fenris, you and Isabela take care of subduing him. Once we get him downstairs, tied up… He's mine."

There was a momentary silence, then Isabela leaned forward, arm draped on the passenger side chair.

"So why aren't we just hitting him like the viscount? Or any of the others?"

Hawke gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Varnell was deplorable. Karras was just as bad. But Alrik… he's the worst. He pushes mages into using their magic so they get arrested. He's as bad as they come. And he'll pay for it."

Fenris made a noise, and Hawke glanced over briefly before turning back to the road.

"Something to add?" he asked, his tone even.

Fenris knew better than to answer.

"This isn't Tevinter," Hawke said. "I know you have a… thing against mages."

Merrill made a sympathetic sort of noise and Isabela sat back to pet her hand.

"This isn't just about mages," Hawke said. It was mostly about Anders, of course, and what Alrik did to him. But Hawke wasn't going to tell them that. They didn't need to know. He loved them, respected them, cared for them, but in the end it was their job to listen to him, to follow his lead. "Alrik is a sick puppy. And we're going to put him down."

"So we're vigilantes now?" Fenris asked.

Hawke slammed on the brakes. The road, thankfully, was empty. He turned to glare at Fenris. "We are whatever I say we are. And if I say we kill Alrik, we kill Alrik. And if anyone," he said, glancing back at the other two, "has a problem, you can get out now."

"Easy, Hawke," Isabela said. "We're not questioning you. Just your… um."

"Manic fervor?" Merrill supplied.

"Yes, that works."

Hawke frowned. "I have my reasons. They're personal. Alrik still deserves everything I'm going to give him and more. Just like how we did Castillon," he said, looking at Isabela.

She looked away, perhaps remembering the job that Hawke helped her complete.

"Just like Danarius," Hawke added.

Fenris frowned, brow furrowed as he dropped his eyes.

He glanced in the rearview mirror at Merrill. "Alrik would see mages like you imprisoned and collared. And then he'd probably rape you."

Merrill turned away. "I understand, Hawke. We're with you."

"Good." He lifted his foot from the brake and they were off again. "I don't think I ask a lot of you, no more than anyone else would. This is something that _needs_ to be done."

They didn't say anything, but nothing else needed to be said. He pulled up across the street from Alrik's house and waited until they got out, pulling supplies from the trunk before driving down the street to park. Hawke took a leisurely stroll, inspecting the houses. Hightown. Where everyone kept to themselves. Oh there would be the usual gossip of course, but it was unlikely that Alrik would ever be found, considering what Hawke had planned. He slipped into the side door which Isabela left unlocked and flicked the deadbolt before heading down to the basement.

"Perfect," he said, surveying the plastic sheet they'd taped to the ground, chair in the middle.

Hawke was not an advocate of torture. In fact, it was usually unnecessary. Intimidation and threats, a few punches. That usually did the trick. But he wanted Alrik to suffer. Isabela and Merrill would keep watch, and Fenris… Well. Hawke had need of him for more than just his ability to break bones. Isabela and Fenris crept upstairs while Merrill sat quietly in the corner, legs crossed, laptop propped up, monitoring the security and the police scanners. Hawke leaned against the far wall to wait.

This wait was bearable, he thought, phone out, flicking through the previous text messages he'd exchanged with Anders earlier that day and yesterday. Anders had put his resume out, apparently, looking for supplemental income. Hawke tried to convince him just to let him take care of everything money wise, but Anders was hearing none of it. And when Hawke suggested Anders work security for the Pearl or bartending at the Hanged Man, Anders told him in no uncertain terms that he absolutely refused to be a pity hire.

_Stubborn._

But there was one promising opening. A school in Hightown was looking for a nurse. The pay was crappy and the hours worse, but it wouldn't conflict with his overnight schedule at the clinic. Hawke thought of the dozens of grubby kids that would be pawing all over him, throwing up on him. He begged him again to reconsider just keeping the clinic job and letting him pay for the rest. The response was a tentative, 'We'll see.'

_Wonder if he'd let me buy him a house and just pay rent…_

As he was trying to justify this to himself, he heard the front door open. There was a tense anticipation as he listened. Merrill did as well, head cocked to the side. The shuffling of feet, then the slumping sound of a body hitting the floor. Hawke smirked. Between Isabela's stealth and Fenris's strength, he'd built an unstoppable team. The basement door opened and Fenris dragged the unconscious body of a tall, bald man with a grey goatee. As he and Isabela wrestled him into a chair, tying him up, Hawke felt a surge of adrenaline.

Vengeance, he decided, was definitely sweet.


	32. Chapter 32

"Wake him up."

Isabela waved smelling salts under his nose, and Alrik jerked awake. He blinked groggily and looked around. When his eyes fell on Hawke, his eyes narrowed.

"You."

"Oh good. You've heard of me."

Hawke sent Merrill and Isabela away, back upstairs and out to keep watch. Once they were done here, he would have Isabela drive the Escalade down so they could reload the trunk with their tools and the evidence.

Alrik scowled, tugging at the ropes that bound him to the chair. "And what do you hope to accomplish with this?"

Hawke paced slowly, watching Alrik follow him. "Oh I'm going to kill you. But not before I pay you back for everything you've done. You sick fuck."

"I suppose it takes one to know one, Mr. Hawke. After all, the rumors of your exploits have reached the templar order."

Hawke laughed. "Oh? Am I that popular? Good. Your 'order' deserves to be taken down a peg or two. I thought Varnell and Karras were bad, but you? You've climbed the ranks and you use your power to push mages. To make them feel like it's their fault, the things you do to them."

Alrik scoffed at that. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Hawke gestured to Fenris. Fenris moved in front of Alrik and punched him across the face, Alrik's head snapping to the side. His lip started to bleed. He took it without flinching. Another punch and a _crack_ as Alrik's nose broke, blood streaming from his nostrils into his mouth. He spat, Fenris moving out of the way to avoid it.

"So kill me," Alrik said. "But don't expect to get away with it."

"Oh I fully expect I will," Hawke said. "What? Do you think Meredith's going to miss you? She's using you as much as you are her."

"Mm, just like you're using your lackey here. Not man enough to hit me yourself?"

An amused snort escaped from Hawke's lips. "Are you actually trying to goad me? Trust me, nothing you could say would make me hate you anymore than I already do. And I plan on making this last. How many bones do you think you can break before you pass out from the pain? Fenris."

Fenris gripped Alrik's bicep. His markings flared and there was a hollow crunching noise followed by Alrik's howl of pain as his humerus bone was crushed. Fenris stepped back, shaking out his hand which was slightly bloodied.

"What," Alrik gasped, looking at him, "what in the name of Andraste…"

"You wonder why I'm so influential in this shitty town? I only employ the best. Stealth killing, top notch blood magic, some of the best intel gathering in all of the Free Marches and of course… Fenris."

Alrik spat out a bit more blood, eyes lingering on Fenris a bit longer before turning back to Hawke. "Is it to be torture, then?"

"Maybe," Hawke said. He waved Fenris out. "Ten minutes."

Fenris left, and Hawke waited until he heard the basement door shut before he removed a baseball bat from the pile of equipment the others brought in.

"The real reason I wanted you so bad. Do you know?"

"I'm ever so sure you're going to enlighten me."

Hawke hefted the bat in his hands, testing the weight. "Anders."

Alrik raised an eyebrow, looking merely bored. He would've pulled it off too, had his face not been covered in blood. "Who?"

Hawke pursed his lips. "See, that doesn't work. If you know who I am, it means you've been reading the papers. It means you know Anders is my lover. And you remember him. I know you do."

Alrik rolled his eyes. "Hm. Oh. Right. The blond mage whore. He moaned like a cheap bitch from the Rose."

Hawke gripped the bat, feeling a cold fury overtake him. He wanted to do this methodically, make him suffer. But he remembered that day in the car. How Anders spoke about what happened, how tearful and scared he was, how disgusted he was with _himself_ when he'd done absolutely nothing to deserve that. Hawke saw red, swinging the bat full force at Alrik, knocking him over. He brought it down again and again over his legs, his middle, ignoring his screams but adding his own as the rage he felt consumed him.

Alrik was gasping for breath when the basement door opened, three sets of feet coming down. Hawke heard Merrill's surprised shriek, Isabela calling his name. He didn't care. He brought the bat down again on Alrik's head, crushing his skull, and again. Only when Fenris grabbed him by the arms, pulling them back behind him did he drop the bat, letting it clatter onto the plastic covered floor. Fenris yanked him away, turning him around. Hawke shrugged him off.

"I'm fine. It's fine!"

"No it bloody well isn't!" Isabela snapped. "Hawke, what the hell!"

"Leave it," he growled.

"Hawke-"

Hawke whirled on her. "I said leave it!"

He was all too aware of the three of them staring at him. He owed them an explanation but he was too angry still to even try to come up with an excuse. All he wanted to do was to hit Alrik again, burn his body, and piss on the ashes. How _dare_ he hurt someone like Anders? Someone who worked so hard to help people, to make things better in this shithole town? Anders deserved better.

"Get the bags," he ordered.

Fenris moved first, phasing his fist and separating Alrik's body into parts. Isabela prepared the thick garbage bags and they started the cleanup process.

"Gloves," Fenris grunted.

Hawke peeled off his gloves and tossed them into a bag. "I'll bring the car around."

He went upstairs without waiting for a response. The cold air outside hit him hard, relieving some of his anger. It had been a long time since he'd actually lost his temper that badly. But it was over. Alrik was out of the picture. He'd never hurt another person, and the templars would have to scramble to find another name to put forward for viscount. It would take Meredith a few days to realize he was missing. Chances are the case would go cold. Hawke was going to make sure he was never found. He pulled down the street, backing into the drive, and waited.

A few minutes later the bags were carried out to the trunk. Isabela did one last sweep of the house while Merrill made sure the security system was engaged. With the general incompetence of the Kirkwall police department, it would be weeks before anyone even got close to guessing what happened. Hawke waited until they'd all climbed into the car before pulling out.

Disposal took place up the Wounded Coast, tossing the pieces into the high tide where the current would carry them out to the ocean. Isabela started to ask him a question as they returned to the car again, but Fenris stopped her. Hawke drove in silence back to the Pearl and waited until they left. Even Fenris disembarked, sensing Hawke's bad mood and desire not to speak. Once they were gone, Hawke drove deliberately, almost as if he'd subconsciously made up his mind where he was going to go. He pulled into the parking lot of Anders' clinic and got out, hands shoved into his pockets.

Lirene looked up to greet him when the automatic sliding glass door opened, and he noticed her expression sour. He didn't care. Instead of waiting for her to speak, he simply walked to the back, gave a perfunctory knock on the office door and let himself in. Anders looked up from the computer, smiling at first to see him, but it was quickly replaced by concern as he stood.

"Hawke?"

Hawke merely walked into his embrace, reaching up to grip him tightly.

"Hawke, what's wrong?" Anders asked, cupping his cheeks. "Are you hurt?"

Hawke shook his head, feeling a little sick. "It's nothing. Business."

"Is everyone okay?" he asked carefully.

Hawke nodded. "I can't talk about it. I just… really needed to see you. Is it okay if I stay?"

"Of course, love." Anders pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Whatever you need."

Hawke buried his face into Anders' shoulder. "Just you," he whispered.

They stood there for a few minutes, Anders slowly rubbing his back. Hawke finally looked up.

"When you can," he said, "after your house arrest, I want to take you on a vacation."

"Hawke, I don't know. I have work and-"

"Please. Just us."

Anders sighed, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. Perhaps Hawke looked as miserable as he felt, because he nodded. Whether or not he meant it, it didn't matter to Hawke. He kissed him firmly.

"I think you should reapply at the hospital soon. Things are going to change. Fast."

Anders raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. "I don't think they'll have me back. Petrice-"

"Saemus wants her gone. Or he will."

"If she goes, "Anders said carefully, "if she goes, I'll try to get my job back. If it means that much to you."

"Don't take the school job."

"I have bills to pay, Hawke."

"Let me take care of you."

Anders sighed. "Hawke."

"Marry me."

The words just tumbled from his lips without any thought behind them, the ragged, raw emotions that he'd been experiencing over the last several weeks building up and releasing into those two little words that held so much weight.

"What?!" Anders was more surprised than anything. He laughed a little. "Hawke? What?"

Hawke shrugged. "If we're married, your debts become my debts."

"You're insane. You're truly, bloody insane," Anders said, still laughing.

"That's not a no," Hawke noted hopefully.

He hadn't given it any real thought until now. But Anders was the only person he wanted, the only lover he'd been scared to lose. Everyone else was either a quick lay or a trophy girlfriend or in Isabela's case, someone who refused to get tied down. She would always be family, of course. But Anders…

"Ask me again in a few months," Anders said, hands on Hawke's chest. "All right?"

"I'll do it with a ring. Big and shiny."

"Or something simple," Anders said. He leaned forward, kissing him gently before whispering in his ear, "I like emeralds."

Hawke grinned and hugged him tightly. "Emeralds it is then."

Though if Anders asked for it, Hawke would have bought him the world.


	33. Epilogue

"Well, Karl. It's been another year," Anders said, sighing.

He knelt down, clearing the debris from the grave. It was chilly, the wind rustling the leaves that were just starting to fall. Anders shivered as he touched the tombstone, running his fingers over Karl's name.

"I brought you more than just flowers this time," he said, settling the bouquet against the stone. "It's… it's been a while, but I think you'd be proud of me. Remember the manuscript I was working on? I changed a few things. And I'm working on the sequel. It's… going to be published soon."

He set the papers he'd wrapped up in plastic down as well. It was silly, he knew that. But it made him feel better. Karl had been there with him the entire time he tried to push through. He would never see the finished work. But Anders had managed it at Hawke's insistence. It was funny, Anders had almost all but forgotten about the Remington typewriter until they unpacked his things in the new house. Anders tried to argue that they didn't need a house, and Hawke argued that renting was pointless. In the end, Hawke's stubbornness won out, though Anders insisted he would pay the bills. Hawke relented, but retaliated by making good on his 'buying dinner every night' promise. Anders figured it would be an ongoing war between them, and one day he would surprise Hawke. Possibly by adopting another cat.

"So many things have changed in a year. I… I told you about Hawke. Garrett Hawke. Maker, he's an asshole, Karl." He laughed. "I think… you'd approve of him. Maybe not his lifestyle, but how he treats me. He loves me. We're… we're really happy. I'm happy."

He settled back on the grass, legs crossed.

"I hated him at first. I thought I did. But we've been through so much this year."

Anders ran a hand through his hair which was much longer now, nearly to his shoulders. Usually he kept it tied back, but Hawke liked it loose. He'd agreed to grow it out after making Hawke promise to never shave his beard, which he'd done shortly after spring began.

"I was arrested for using magic. You would've been outraged." He laughed a little, the previous autumn's events a distant memory now. "There's a bill that's getting voted on. To let mages use their magic, 'in a capacity benefitting the city-state and all its patrons.' Which is more or less what it sounds like. I would be able to heal people, Karl. I could… I could save lives with magic." He grinned, feeling the same nervous excitement he'd felt when he first heard of it. "They're doing the same in Ferelden right now. Nathaniel's name is all over it.

"We still have so much further to go. The Commander of the templars – Meredith, remember her? When she took over? She's still a pain in everyone's ass. But I'm sure it's only a matter of time before she's gone. Oh, speaking of gone? Petrice is finally out," he said, recalling Petrice's dismissal at the start of summer.

It had taken several months, but Hawke promised him it would happen. Saemus Dumar had been a boon to the city in general but mages specifically. Petrice's removal had taken time, but with the disappearance of Alrik and several other templars, more mages in St. Elthina's employ had come forward to tell their story. Anders had led the helm. It was painful, but the community at large had been supportive, an outcry from the pro-mage and pro-magic groups. And with Hawke standing resolutely by them, hand-in-hand with Anders, he helped ignite a fireball that took the Free Marches by storm. Sebastian had even reported a similar bill in Starkhaven. Thedas was changing.

"I was fired last year, but they invited me back after she left. So I went. The money isn't important, but I did get a promotion finally. Still working the clinic though. I can't leave Selby and the others behind. But I've cut my workload. Hawke's a bit… demanding of my time."

He blushed a little, recalling the time they'd spent together just last night. In a large, comfortable bed of course. Anders was pleased to find that Hawke enjoyed quite a lot of different things, though they were still discovering new positions… and places. It was liberating, and reminded him in a way of his relationship with Karl. And while Hawke couldn't use magic, Anders hadn't hesitated to show him the benefits of having a mage for a lover.

"Justice got married." He laughed. "That's an odd statement. I was the best man at the wedding. I don't really think he approved of my bringing Hawke, but they were on their best behavior. Justice only threatened him once and Hawke only threw three insults. Progress." He held out his hand. "Speaking of marriage…"

The silver and emerald ring, freshly polished, decorated his ring finger, representing his commitment to Hawke. Anders was still saving to get a matching one with a ruby for Hawke, but Hawke promised him that he didn't mind waiting.

"I don't know if it's too soon. Justice certainly thinks so. But I don't think I want to wait. Life is too short. Too precious. Anything could happen. I just don't want to miss out. You… I hope you understand."

There was silence, of course, except for the rustling of the leaves, the whipping of the wind. Anders sighed, but smiled.

"I miss you, Karl. But I think you would be happy for me. I hope you are. Happy, that is. Wherever you are." He looked down, eyes closed a moment. "I love you. I always will, you know?" He touched the grass, almost as if that gesture could make Karl hear him, understand him. With another sigh, he opened his eyes again.

He kissed his fingertips and touched Karl's name before standing. Hands in his pockets, he slowly wound his way back to the parking lot.

"Hey," he said. "Thanks for waiting."

Hawke, who'd been leaning against the Escalade, stood straight, opening his arms. Anders smiled and hugged him tightly, enjoying the feeling of his fiancé's arms wrapped around him. He inhaled, breathing in his scent, feeling safe and warm and loved.

"Ready to go then?" Hawke asked, looking at him.

Anders kissed him gently. "Yes."

They got in, Hawke starting the car.

"I was thinking burgers and a maybe a kung fu movie," Hawke suggested.

Anders made a face. "Fine. But I pick tomorrow's."

Hawke grinned. "Fair enough."

Anders glanced out the window toward the cemetery, watching it disappear in the mirror. He felt Hawke's hand cover his own, and Anders gripped it tightly. Regardless of what the future held, he would embrace it wholly, standing side-by-side with Hawke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've come to the end of another of my longer-ish stories. Thanks everyone SO very much for all the love and support and for all the lovely, wonderful comments and feedback. I really had a lot of fun. While the story is finished, I'll be putting up my notes sometime very soon, before the day is out, along with a floorplan of Anders' apartment that I'd drawn out.


	34. Notes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seemed to be excited to see my notes, which are very stream of consciousness ramblings. Anything in bold or italics are not part of the original notes and are my current musings on them, looking back now, exactly a month since I started writing this. ^_^

**Ah so, I had two text files, one entitled "notes" and the "timeline" which is more a part two thing, so we'll start with "notes"**

Mafioso!  
2014 tech, has magic  
Magic is akin to recreational drugs, just don't get caught using it  
Mages can be fired from their jobs

**This was a really hard thing for me to decide, where and how I wanted to set it up. I agonized over making it modern day Earth or modern day Thedas, if I wanted dwarves and elves, etc. If you notice, I never really fully describe Varric (other than being short) or the elven traits of Fenris and Merrill. I figure it can be left up to interpretation whether or not they are difference races. The main focus I really wanted to be was the use of magic and the legalities, rather than any type of racism, so that got toned down.**

Big plot - Meeran and Athenriel are back in town running things together, and trying to take Hawke down. They want his cut after he tossed them both out on their ear. Mostly they just want him dead.

Magisters want to see magic as a regular thing, Chantry keeps it underwraps, this is a federal issue, world-wide even.

**The Magisters "gang" was originally going to have a bigger part as well but I decided to focus more Anders and Hawke with their relationship than any politics.**

-

Karl was killed by a rival gang (Magisters?)

**Glad I changed that, as it ended up being quite a big plot point!**

Hawke has a knife wound keeps bleeding, gets him in the clinic

**Also here, the original prompt on the kink meme was something along the lines of Bethany et al making Hawke go see a doctor for a wound he sustained. When I was writing the first few chapters, it just happened the way it did. Fenris called Hawke and I was like, "Ah, perfect."**

Kinda falls for him a bit, sees him at a coffee shop, buys him coffee, Anders is like, "Ahh no. No thanks." Leaves.

Hawke is put out by this - starts researching him, and one night on a job Fenris gets shot, brings him to Anders' house. Anders is like WTF??

Fenris-Anders fight when Fenris wakes up

**Maybe the one thing I kind of do regret is not having more Fenris-Anders banter. I love their antagonistic relationship.**

-

Isabela: Captain  
*runs a strip club/whorehouse "The Pearl"  
*master of twin blades/throwing daggers

Carver: Captain

Merrill: Captain

Varric: Consiglieri  
*runs a sports bar "The Hanged Man"  
*has a daughter Bianca who lives with her uncle Bartrand

**This is where I did more Sopranos-esque research, and had a lot of input from my girlfriend regarding everyone's roles. Merrill isn't technically a Captain here, nor is Fenris. As you guys know, Merrill ended up being more intel and Fenris as an enforcer. It's my headcanon that Carver started out as an enforcer but Hawke promoted him and taught him how to work his circuit a bit better.**

-

Tarohne captured Carver and Keran, one of Cullen's cops. She's using magic to hurt them, but Tarohne's not the mastermind behind it all. She's working for Athenril and Meeran. Who are working for Meredith

**Keran's role changed, I think for the better. Sadly he's no longer with us. Which IS sad, because I do like Keran. Ah well.**

-

Greagoir, the principal at Anders' school, was a lyrium addict. He was in debt to one of Hawke's men a lot, like, losing his house. He quit school and Karl went over to find out what happened/why. Greagoir was packing up to skip town when Hawke's assassins came for him. Karl got shot and was taken to the hospital. Anders went, but Karl was in a coma. A few days later he got unplugged on a DNR.

Anders was 18 when he got involved with Karl, who encouraged him to go to college. Anders wanted to write, but knew it was hard to make money so he put himself through medical school, Karl footing the bill/co-signing loans. Justice didn't approve of their relationship but there wasn't anything he could do. It was all legal, despite Karl being 20 years older than Anders.

Anders is 30 now, Karl died when he was 27, one year after Anders graduated medical school.

**I think their ages changed a little, I believe Anders is closer to 31 or 32 when we meet him, but the age difference is still legit. I admit have a teacher/student age difference kink. Another reason why I adore Anders/Karl as a pairing. :D**

-

Hawke sends Anders gifts and things. Meanwhile, Sebastian wants Anders to work for him, offers to bring him to Starkhaven to give him a life there. Hawke? Hawke just wants to love him.

-

Anders and Hawke in a tentative relationship after that, Anders finds out that HAWKE is the reason Karl is dead. He leaves. 

**Exacerbated by the fact that Hawke is a killer, something that Anders has to learn to work through.**

-  
Sequel:

Anders in the Gallows, refusing to take Meredith's deal. Holed up with other mages, it's much like a regular prison. He has access to paper and pencils. Justice is taking care of Ser Pounce and handled the issue with the lease/apartment, canceled Anders' electricity, etc. Put all his salvageable furniture in his basement for him.

Justice visits him in the Gallows, tells him that if he just tells the truth of what happened that night, it'll be fine. Anders says nothing.

**Originally had a scene where Justice and Anders were actually talking, Justice trying to get Anders to turn Hawke in. Scrapped because it didn't flow very well, so it's just sort of mentioned in passing.**

Lawyer, public defender is... someone bumbling. Varric sends a high-priced one. Anders is pissed.

**I had tried to think of someone for the public defender, and originally there was no lawyer that was going to play a role, then I decided why not bring Zevran back, and I'm pleased I found a voice for him because for me, he's one of the more difficult characters to write.**

Reads his mail - letter from Bethany from Starkhaven, giving him an overview of what happened - she and Sebastian went there, talks of marriage. PRomises him she'll be there for his trial, misses him, so worried for him.

Next letter is from Varric re: the lawyer. Begs him to accept it, for his sake, not Hawke's. 

Anders throws Hawke's letter away without reading

*

Hawke is seeing his mother off on a cruise then heads home, depressed. drinking. Isabela tries to take care of him, he snaps at her. Fenris is disappointed. Carver comes in to talk to him. Hawke has a long conversation with him about Malcolm, about Anders, about Karl. Carver calls him an idiot and tells him to keep trying. Go see Aveline for a talk. Hawke goes. Only Aveline's gone. Sent to Orlais for reassignment due to her questionable ethics

**I have another regret here that Carver and Hawke didn't get to have a conversation, but again the flow sort of didn't work, and Carver was sent to prison not so long after the ending. Also I wasn't sure if it would compromise Hawke's characterization a bit, what with him being really only vulnerable when it came to Anders (and very rarely sometimes Bethany). It's not a big regret that this didn't make it in there.**

Hawke needs a scene fighting with Fenris/boxing/working out/whatever

**Probably one of the scenes that was more fun to write, as Fenris is an exceptional fighter and could easily kick this Hawke's ass. Mutual respect and friendship keeps that from happening though.**

Carver takes the fall, "went to Meeran to get Anders back for Hawke, Hawke didn't know, got stabbed, shot Meeran as he went down, Anders healed him" Carver gets six months in prison, Anders gets house arrest.

Anders is fired from the hospital, but Selby has agreed to keep him on, Anders applies for a work permit. Reporters, blah blah blah. Nathaniel rents an apartment to stay near Anders for whatever he might need - took a leave from his job as advisor in Ferelden, tries to get Anders to come back with him, Anders won't leave Karl.

Meredith wants Hawke gone because she wants Dumar out of office so she can take over. Knows that Hawke is a big influential player that can keep Dumar on the throne or worse, put his son Saemus there.

Anders is pissed that Keran is a templar, Hawke asks what you want to do with him. Anders shows compassion, tells Hawke to let him go. Hawke does, but shoots Keran anyway and kills him.

**This occurred after a discussion with my girlfriend, trying to figure out what to do with Keran. She urged me to make sure Anders stayed innocent of it all, to keep his hands cleans, but at the same time, Keran still had to die, and thus Hawke gets to keep his consistency. The reason you guys get such quality fic is because I have the most amazing beta in the universe. :D**

Alrik breaks into the clinic under Meredith's command. Puts Lirene unconscious, forces Anders to call Hawke to tell him to throw his weight for X candidate instead of Dumar or he would rape/kill Anders. Hawke though figures it out during the convo, somehow manages to realize that Alrik has Anders and saves the day - knocks Alrik out but Anders wants Justice to come and lock him up. So Hawke has to relent.

**This. This was the hardest thing to change, I think. It just didn't fit. Maybe as an 'alternate ending' it would have worked. But I felt like I put Anders through a LOT in the last chapter what with being kidnapped and all and I'm not sure Meredith would make Alrik be that pro-active when it came to this. It's possible it's something she has in the works and maybe down the road, sure, it could happen again. But I'm pretty sure Hawke, after everything that happened, would be keeping a close eye on Anders and the rest of his family.**

Epilogue - Hawke taking Anders to Karl's grave.

**This was important to show the parallels. Justice normally being the one to take Anders to see Karl, and now the reveal is that it's Hawke. Showing that Anders loves and trusts Hawke as much as he loves and trusts his brother (albeit a different type of love). And Anders, of course, finally letting go of Karl and moving on so that he could love Hawke fully. He'll always love Karl, of course. ...Poor Karl. I think this is the second time I've made him Anders' dead former lover.**

***Timeline! For Part 2***

Anders discovers he's FIRED from the hospital, but gets work/leave papers to work at the clinic despite the house arrest. Hawke and Anders have a fight, somewhat yelling.

Nathaniel comforts him, another makeout session that ends up with Nate sucking him off on the couch.

**THIS changed! I was going to make the Nate-Anders-Hawke triangle a much bigger part, but Anders wasn't really having any of it so I just let it go, and Nate was happy to step back and just make sure that Anders was okay. He tried again, but nope. Wasn't going to happen. Poor Nate.**  
*

Hawke receives an invitation for dinner from viscount dumar so he goes and they talk about the upcoming election - he actually has competition now, Ser Alrik from the hospital. Hawke is PISSED. Saemus speaks of the inequality in the city, dumar sighs, despairs of youth. Hawke is reminded of Anders though, asks Saemus what he thinks of mages and they have a talk.  
*

Anders is at his clinic, just having a phone convo with Justice when Alain walks in. Anders is SHOCKED and decides okay, it's time to have a talk with Hawke.

**Obvious change here, Alain comes to the house rather than the clinic.**  
*

Hawke is nervous - bring flowers? chocolates? What? Remembers what Varric said about coffee - brings Anders a coffee and asks him if he wants to pay for it. Anders is like *facepalm* ... *sigh* ... ilu. (Maybe mention Carver's incarceration and tell him about Keran, might have him tied up)\

**Little bit of change here with the timelines and when Hawke shows up vs Alain showing up vs bringing Keran to the house**  
*

Saemus Dumar shows up at the house and Justice is all wtf, but Saemus is like I want to talk to Anders, and Nate's there too so he uses it like, "I am an ambassador, blah blah" and Saemus is VERY interested in Nate among other things. Justice gets annoyed at mage freedom talk because it's against the law - goes to bed. Anders leave the room briefly, stops in the doorway to see Saemus/Nate kind of close - decides to go to bed, calls Hawke to talk to him.

**Yes. Saemus/Nate was going to be a thing, but it didn't quite fit with the plot. Feel free to imagine it happened though, Nathaniel is in Kirkwall for a full year after all. ;)**  
*

Hawke and Anders conversation where they're both lying in bed. Sexytimes over the phone. The entire chapter. Do it. You can.

**Obviously got changed to the bathtub, but it was a good change, I think. Yes, I write little notes to myself to psych myself up for things. I always feel silly writing smut and editing it but people really did like this chapter so YAY. :D**  
*

Alrik at the clinic, forces Anders to call Hawke to throw his weight in with him instead of the Dumars.

-

Best laid plans. -_-

Anders and Hawke talk at the clinic, Hawke offers to let him pay for the coffee, Anders is like *sigh* They discuss Alrik and 

**Sometimes I stop writing mid-thought and go off and stare at a wall, or I decide I need coffee _right fucking now_ and I forget what I was going to say...**

**

Alrik torture scene, make him pay for what he did to Anders.

Saemus dealing with Petrice - include something in the epilogue about this?

**And a note to remind myself the loose ends to tie up! Which I hope I did.**

Anders' apartment!

Feel free to ask any questions you might have regarding the story or the notes or whatever. I had SO much fun writing this and I really appreciate all the support.

Edited to add:

Some amazing, lovely fanart from ThatSkinnyGuy for this fic! (How cute are they??)

Edited again to add:

Some more amazing, wonderful fanart from Malou for this fic! Doctor Anders is adorable, and I just love Hawke's coat! :D

Edited to add:

A rendering from chapter 26 of No Exchanges by [Jen](http://1000saturdaymornings.tumblr.com/)! Adorable Pounce-the-traitor, and Anders about to bolt. Also the infamous couch. :D

Hawke, the mafia boss by Nils!


End file.
